


Open My Eyes (Reimagined 2020)

by Soyeahthishappened



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Good Dog Sumo (Detroit: Become Human), Hurt/Comfort, Post-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Pre-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Pre-Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Precious Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:20:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 114,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23589820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soyeahthishappened/pseuds/Soyeahthishappened
Summary: You've never been fond of ordering around such human-like beings, even though their sole purpose is to 'serve' humans.You're Hank Anderson's partner of 2 years, a detective in the DPD, and you two have been assigned the cutest android as a new partner.Can you break this Android sent by CyberLife from his bonds? Can this same Android save you from your descent into despair? Can Sumo be any cuter?Update April 2020: The original version is also under the DBH tag on my works. I reread my first story and cringed a lot, so I decided to rewrite it! Also, I still suck at summaries. There a lot more to my story than this.
Relationships: Connor (Detroit: Become Human)/Reader, Connor/Reader, Hank Anderson & Connor & Reader, Platonic Hank/Connor, platonic hank/reader
Comments: 119
Kudos: 294





	1. The Android Sent By CyberLife

**Author's Note:**

> This story is near and dear to my heart since it's the first actual FanFic I've ever made, but god the original isn't all that good. I'm going to be remaking it- so if there are any out there who read the original (and new readers too!) , I hope you enjoy!  
> I'm going to be fixing a lot of things including: cringeworthy stuff, timeline discrepancies, grammar, adding more Connor POV, and anything else I see fit. I'm also gonna change and add new content as I go!

Link to my [Original Story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15107708/chapters/56602312#workskin)! Beware. 

* * *

There are few things you wouldn’t do to get out of this late night investigation you were dragged into. 

Honestly, you were just trying to enjoy a nice break at the station when Captain Fowler's forceful voice boomed from his office, calling for you to come up to him “This instant.”

Nobody ever wants to be the one called into his office when he takes on that tone, but it seems like today is just your lucky day since your name is what he called. 

Naturally, you ditched your delicious coffee to head towards his office; very much wanting to avoid getting chewed out for such a delay. 

Dropping everything to go hide briefly flutters through your mind, but you know - that he knows - that you’re in the station, so it’ll never work. 

Fortunately, after a brief conversation with the Captain you find out that you are, in fact, not in any trouble, but you and Hank are also getting a new ‘partner’ whom you will meet once you get onto the scene of a _homicide_. 

Finally, something interesting is going on up in this bitch. All thoughts of wanting to run off on this one fly swiftly out the window in wake of uncontrollable excitement. 

Hank, who is currently nowhere to be found, is going to be fetched by your new partner. God bless their poor soul, cause if he’s at the bar right now and he gets interrupted… Well, let’s just say it won’t be very nice for them. 

Unfortunately you didn't get any details about said partner just yet, only receiving a smug, "It's complicated", response from the captain when you bugged him for more answers. 

That would have to suffice for now, though, since you want to arrive on the scene before Hank gets there (that won’t be very difficult). 

\---

You had a lot of time to think on your drive over here, and, now that you’ve had a moment to think to yourself, you’ve decided that you actually aren’t that excited to get a new partner anymore. 

On your way out of the station, Detective Reed made a snide comment about the station’s ‘pathetic rating’ going down. Not only was it lame and childish, but it also, unfortunately, made your blood boil. 

If your new partner is going to be anything like Detective Reed, then you don’t want them. There’s only so much you can take when it comes to complete assholes, and you’re absolutely positive that you might just murder them if they’re anything like that prick. 

The only reason you got along with Hank so easily despite his harsh, grumpy exterior is because you saw the softie hiding behind his hard shell. He’s a caring man, and while he doesn’t ‘care’ for himself, he always does his best to be there for you - as if you were his family. 

It takes you about half an hour to arrive, but, luckily, it appears that you haven’t really missed anything. 

There’s police ‘tape’ lining the scene and a crowd of people, mostly reporters, crowding the entrance and blocking your path inside. 

While you make your way inside, a lot of questions are thrown your way with reporters yelling ‘detective’, but you ignore them all and make it safely inside the scene. 

Your curiosity peaks on your way inside, hearing the collective hushed whispers of the crowd; all of them speculating on what happened, commenting on the owner of the shabby house and so on. You decide to wait for the Lieutenant and your partner at the door, though, wanting your first impression of the crime scene to be witnessed with Hank.

Shockingly enough, it only takes another ten agonizing minutes of rain and wind before your eyes land on Hank's car pulling into the free spot in front of your own; a new record you would say. 

Your relationship with Lieutenant Hank Anderson can most accurately be labeled as complicated. 

You definitely aren’t the best detective in the precinct, you know that, Hank knows that, everybody does (otherwise you’d be a Lieutenant like Hank). But you speculate your partnership with the legend Hank Anderson is because of that. He mentors you almost, showing you his observations and giving you tips on things to further your skills. 

Of course, it had been a bit tense at first but after a particularly rough case/night with ole Hanky boy, you found that there’s so much more to him than meets the eye. His rough shell is just that, a shell. Once you got past that, his grumpiness became no match for you anymore, being able to see right through him most of the time. 

You're quickly brought out of your stupor starring the Lieutenant when he suddenly breaks through the crowd and waltzes over to you.

Alone. 

You immediately jump to the conclusion that he scared them off, whoever ‘them’ happens to be. 

"Hey, Hank, where’s the new guy? Did you scare ‘em off already? I thought I told you to play nice with others?" 

Hank scoffs at your statement, but before he can bite back at you with a snarky comment of his own, he’s cut off by the sound of an ‘assistant cop’ android prohibiting the entrance of a rather well dressed and composed mystery-droid.

Hanks' reaction to said male robot trying to enter the scene immediately sets off red flags. 

Who the fuck is this guy, and why is his god-damned face so symmetrical? 

Hank turns back after exhaustedly telling the service android that he’s with him, and you quickly put two and two together. 

Something about the thought that you'll be working with, what looks like, a super advanced detective-droid excites you to no end; but you have to be sure first of course. 

"Woah, Hank who's your new friend?" You can't keep the curiosity or excitement out of your tone, but once again before Hank can answer you himself, he's interrupted. This time by the android himself. 

He steps forward, having to look down at you as he gives a pleasant smile and nods down at you in acknowledgment. "My name is Connor. I am the Android sent by CyberLife to assist you and Lieutenant Anderson on this case." 

Oh lord, right then and there you swear you had just heard the voice of an angel. 

You are actually extremely impressed. 

His voice is smooth, and also rather comforting. Not to mention his appearance is both poised and extremely attractive. He has all the preferred attributes for an ideal investigative and interrogative environment, at least it looks like he does. 

You realize right away that CyberLife knew what they were doing when they made this here Android. 

You smile back up at him, offering your hand for a polite shake as you introduce yourself in return. "Y/N L/N, I'm uh... the human sent by the Detroit Police Department." Your attempt at a joke seems to go over his head, meanwhile it only makes Hank groan in irritation. 

"You shouldn't bother, Y/N, this prick here probably already accessed all your personal information with one of his 'scans'. I know he sure did it to me.” 

That there makes you laugh, not Hank’s preferred response, while Connor simply looks between the two of you.

What Hank said wasn't exactly wrong though. 

"I didn't access all of her, or your, personal information Lieutenant. I only acquired the necessary details to-" he's abruptly cut off by Hank before he can finish defending himself.

"Yeah, yeah. What the fuck ever, we've got a crime scene to investigate, so why don't we just go do that?" 

You find it hard to hide your smile, so you settle for a snort while you look away from him. 

Hank looks about ready to head inside, so you go ahead and briefly explain to him why you’re there in the first place. 

You turn on your heel and make your way inside, still explaining the major details of the case when you suddenly stop. Right away you regret not preparing yourself for the crime scene first. 

The stench is awful, decaying organic matter never did smell good in the first place, but that shit literally smells like the very depths of hell. 

Your hand shoots up instinctively and you pinch your nose closed, wanting desperately to block out the foul odor coming from the horribly maimed body just across the living room. 

No matter how bad that smell is, though, the sight is much worse. 

"Good god..." Hank, who’s standing just to the left of you, groans. 

Right before your interruption, Collins said himself that the smell had been _worse_ before you three even got there, so, you suppose, that you’re just grateful you didn’t have to suffer like the first-responders no doubt did. The current smell is bad enough, but the fact that it had been worse before you went inside? Hell no. 

Instead of any further complaining, you just let out a long sigh and shake your head distastefully, letting your nose go so you can, hopefully, get used to the terrible smell faster. 

Collins continues where you left off, starting to list off the victims name, criminal record, and the neighbors opinions on him. 

You say nothing throughout the duration of Collin’s explanation, listening to Hank's disapproval of calling everyone out for a long dead man in the middle of the night. And, frankly, you're having a tough time disagreeing. 

He’s already dead, the suspect is more than likely gone, and it’s literally almost 12 A.M. already. What would another night do that the last few weeks hasn't? 

You zone out for a moment as you observed the scene, taking a moment to let everything just… sink in. 

It’s a mess, disgusting and dark probably before Mr. Ortiz was killed in the first place. His large body lay in the middle of the room, multiple stab wounds littering along his chest and stomach with milky-white, dead eyes; those eyes that stare at nothing, betray nothing, show just how empty he is. The words ‘I AM ALIVE’ are painted red above Ortiz’ lifeless body, wait- no. Not paint, that’s blood. 

An involuntary shiver runs down your spine at the thought, but you push your discomfort aside and scan over the room again, not noticing anything else right away. 

Your moment in your mind palace is brought to an abrupt halt when Collins states that he had been there for at least three weeks. 

So, it seems your original observation was correct. There’s no way the murder would’ve stuck around that long. 

You listen to the Lieutenant and Collins go back and forth for a bit before growing bored.

It happens unfortunately often - you get bored and stop listening, miss a few things while you think stuff through in your mind, and then have to be filled in by Hank later on- but you can’t _help it_. Really, it’s just so easy to get lost in your own theories and thoughts, and, usually, you end up being pretty accurate in your guesses and observations. One of the things that makes you a good detective - though not necessarily the best. 

Your gaze flickers over to Connor who seems to be observing something on the table across from the body. 

This piques your interest, so you head over and glance over his shoulder rather easily since he's in a crouched position. 

It’s red ice. Of course the fucker smoked red ice, most of them do, don't they? Boring and oh so typical. 

Now that you’ve learned that little tid-bit of information, you decide to move onto the kitchen to observe some things for yourself, wanting to draw your own conclusions and keep your opinions untainted by Hank’s or others assumptions. 

Hank's angry exclamation pulls you from your mini investigation, yelling about whatever pissed him off this time. Though when you poke your head out of the room to see what's going on, you understand right away. 

Connor had put evidence in his mouth and, yeah, Hank loves to complain about random things a lot but this seems pretty damn reasonable. 

But… at the same time, it’s also so _intriguing_. 

"Sweet..." You breathe with wide eyes, a smile coming to your face. 

⇑ (Y/N)

You watch for a moment longer, only returning to the kitchen when Connor turns and gives you a puzzled look. Though, your return trip is more of an embarrassed escape. 

You would be a liar if you said you didn't find him at all interesting. Something about his atmosphere, his persona, really catches your attention. 

He has all of these cool features, some of which make you question if CyberLife was purposely trying to piss off Hank, and his appearance and voice are just as smooth and pleasing as other androids. CyberLife really spared no expense on this one. 

That thought makes you smirk, but the smirk is wiped off your face in an instant when you see the metal bat laying on the floor. 

That... isn't right. There are no signs whatsoever of Carlos being beaten with a bat; no blunt force trauma, broken bones, or anything like that. Only stab wounds. 

Of course, there’s no way it’s a coincidence either…

Deciding to pocket that for later, you get back up and peer around again when a door at the end of a narrow hall catches you eye. When you approach, you realize that it's bathroom - its' door ajar. 

The pieces are beginning to fall into place, and you’re starting to get the gist of what happened. Though, you’re not going to say anything just yet. Such a quick reveal won't make testing out the new detective-droid any fun; you wanna see what he’s capable of. 

Your mischievous thoughts are quickly cut off at the sight before you in the bathroom, everything you thought you knew flying out the window.

"rA9" litters the bathroom walls and a small statuette sits in the middle of the shower area in the cramped bathroom. 

The statue sits there, staring up at you with it’s expressionless, humanoid face. How unnerving. 

It’s disturbing and reminds you an awful lot of some sort of cultish religious offering; like something from some of those classic 2010’s movies that you use to watch with your friends during sleepovers and such. 

A low whistle resounds from you as you look around the room a bit more, mulling over this new information in your head when you suddenly feel a presence behind you. 

You turn your head a fraction and, upon identifying the looming figure behind you, offer a kind smile to Connor who takes a moment to scan his eyes over the room and the human - you - standing in it. 

You quickly notice the renewed raindrops on his uniform and glistening in his hair, causing you to tilt your head just the slightest. Searching for footprints in the backyard is your first guess, but you won't pretend to know. 

Instead you simply step aside and let him walk in further, wanting to see what he thinks of it all. 

"It's pretty eerie, huh? I’ve never seen anything like it,” you pause for a fraction of a second before adding slyly, “What do you think? I'd like to hear your opinion." 

He looks back at you when you ask about his opinion, his head tilting to the left a bit. "I do not have any personal opinions,” you don’t reply to that and keep your eye roll to yourself, “but it appears as if rA9 is some sort of… higher power."

His little jab about not having personal opinions irritates you a bit, but you decide to let it slide and give a nod instead. 

It’s a suitable answer regardless of your personal opinions.

"Interesting, can't say I disagree. I won't keep you though, I've got other things to do." With that, you leave (but not without nodding at him politely), feeling his calculating eyes follow you along until you disappear from sight. 

You make your way back to the living room with the body of Carlos Ortiz, noticing Hank leaning against the wall seemingly deep in thought.

A fond smile makes its way to your face, well aware that he can't see you in the first place, before you crouch down next to the body to make your own close-up observations. 

You zone out for what seems like the 100th time, getting lost in thought rather easily as you internally visualize what happened.

When you hear your own thoughts being vocalized not too far off, however, your stupor ends and you look up to see Connor explaining his own interpretation of what went down to Hank. 

That brings a smile to your face alright.

You know that Hank already figured it out, probably as soon as he got to see all the evidence for himself, but seeing him test out Connor like he used to with you brought back some pretty nice memories. 

You move to stand next to Hank as Connor recites what he knows about the blue blood Androids have, curious about the facts of it all. You actually never knew that it was called 'Thirium' since everyone just calls it Blue Blood, though, you don’t mind learning new things. 

Connor leaves moments later, seemingly looking at nothing on the ground as he follows a path invisible to the naked eye. 

You decide to follow him inconspicuously, watching where he goes, what he does, noting each action he takes to memory. 

His eyes suddenly lock on the attic door in front of the bathroom entrance, and when Connor goes for a chair, followed by Hanks obviously disapproving questions, your curiosity increases tenfold. 

You follow Hank to the entrance of the attic as Connor climbs up, not exactly sure what he’s up to. 

You look over at Hank with a raised eyebrow, asking quietly, "Should someone go up with him? Going alone is dangerous.”

You can't help but be worried; he’s a part of your team right now after all, so you have a responsibility to look after him. 

Hank doesn't seem to feel the same way, considering his scoff and simple head shake. 

"It's a damn Android, Y/N, better him then you or me.”

That draws a sigh from your lips, understanding where he's coming from. More or less.

Hank has made it apparent time and time again that he cares unceasingly about what happens to you, so he most likely wouldn’t let you go up even if this android _wasn’t_ here. 

"I...I guess so…” You concede, looking back up slowly to see if anything has changed.

Hank decides then to call up to him, his voice harsh and a bit impatient. "Connor, what the fuck is goin' on up there?" 

There is a short pause of nothing, no sound or call back, before Connor’s muffled call rings back, "It's here Lieutenant!" 

You and Hank look at each other sharply, eyes wide with equal amounts of shock on your faces, before Hank jumps into action. 

-

Not long after is the deviant detained and being hauled out of the attic, his hands cuffed and a look of pure, unadulterated fear on his face. 

The pang that shoots through your chest surprises you, how could one look affect you like that? 

He killed someone, a human, and you know that it’s wrong, but if your theories are correct then it’s self-defense. Why is he going to get punished for defending himself? Perhaps that’s a stupid question. 

You know why, but it doesn’t sit well with you in the slightest. 

When Connor comes down with that same blank expression as before - as if he hadn't just signed this mans death certificate - you only feel worse. 

All that’s left now is to interrogate the android, and, hopefully, you’ll be able to get some work done. 

Hank approaches you while they haul the victim away, and you betray nothing in your expression. 

“How long do you think the interrogation will be?” You wonder out loud, tilting your head to the side a bit. 

“Hopefully not too long,” he grunts back gruffly, adding right after, “Maybe you should go home, kid. You’ve got huge bags under your eyes.” 

You don’t reply right away and look at him blankly, slowly replying, “Wow, you sure know how to make me feel special, Hank.” 

All the while, Connor watches the interaction between the two of you with interest, seeming to analyze and commit to memory everything you say to each other - like he’s trying to learn from it. 

Of course, it doesn’t go by unnoticed by you, though you can’t speak for Hank. He’s intelligent and calculating, trying to figure out what to do and how to do it at every given moment. 

Oh, this is definitely going to be interesting.

\---

⇑ (Y/N- Neutral)

\- (Hank- Tense)


	2. Torment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm switching chapters 2 and 3 since my original timeline is fucked up and not accurate AT ALL. Hope that's okay!  
> Also, I'm a glutton for kudos and comments, so if anyone's feeling generous...

The trip back to the precinct after leaving the crime scene was silent and full of thoughts. 

You, of course, rode back alone since you brought your own car, and you took this rare opportunity of tranquility to just relax and enjoy the ride. 

Except, something's bothering you; something that you just can't shake. 

And that 'something' is the expression on the deviant's face while he was hauled away in handcuffs. It plagues your mind, preventing you from enjoying your downtime like you so wanted to. 

His eyes were downcast and a seemingly permanent frown tugged at his lips, and the blood, a mixture of blue and red, splattered across his clothes and on his face weren't fun to look at. What really got to you, however, was the look in his eyes. It wasn't the usual faraway, unseeing eyes of an obedient android, but the sad, frightened eyes of a victim.

You know those eyes well, for you've seen them countless times on others, on human victims. They're the eyes of someone who has faced unimaginable cruelty; suffering that they can't even begin to explain; and that lurking knowledge that justice is a hard goal to achieve. For him, impossible. 

When you arrive at the station once more, you see that you're the last one there (being as everyone else's cars are already in their respective spots), and, not wanting to get in trouble for being any more late, you grab your things and practically run inside. 

You get some weird looks on your way in, but you ignore that and make a beeline for the Hard Interview rooms. 

Once you finally make it inside, you see Hank sitting across from the deviant with an annoyed expression on his face (an expression you know better than anyone). It's 12:50 now, and the interrogation most likely started 10 or so minutes ago. 

From the intercom you hear him ask rather impatiently, "Why'd you kill him?" The tone of his voice telling you right off the bat that this isn't the first time this question's been asked.

You rub your forehead lightly in an attempt to ward off the approaching headache, stopping once you're next to Connor to stand with him. He's your new partner after all :). 

A quick glance upwards tells you that he's observing everything attentively, something you appreciate very much, and he seems almost interested. 

You cock your head to the side, then look over at that asshole Gavin standing just to your left, asking hesitantly, "What did I miss?"

There's no point in trying to justify your tardiness at this point. You know for a fact you're going to hear from Hank after he comes out of the hot room after all, so you add nothing more and wait for him to make his snide remark. 

Gavin turns his head and scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest with a mocking expression on his face, "Look who finally decided to show up." 

Your eye twitches and you try to keep your words to yourself, but you can't help but to bite back, "Just as much of an ugly bastard as ever, I see. Can't handle that I don't get in trouble for being a little late, Reed?' 

His eyes flash dangerously as he turns to look at you fully, a sneer scrunching up his features,"You do realize it's not amateur hour, right? Why don't you fuck on off back to your little girl desk and play cop some more." 

Now that certainly strikes a cord, but before you can rip him a new one, Connor interrupts. 

"Detective Y/N, I'm glad to see you've arrived," he pauses for a moment and looks at the one way glass for a second before adding, "You haven't missed anything, fortunately." Connor looks down at you again, but only for a split second because a sudden bang grabs everyone's attention. 

Hank seems to be loosing his cool, or maybe it's just a tactic to scare the android into talking.

"Say something god damn it!"

The android still stays silent, not even looking at him.

The look in Hank's face once he's met with silence once more immediately tells you that he's done talking.

He gets up and mumbles in his gruff voice, "Fuck this, I'm outta here." 

When Hank exits the room, the agitation seems to roll off of him, and the first thing that comes from him is an almost incredulous yell, "We're wasting our time interrogating a machine, we're gettin' nothing out of it!" While he yells, he also takes a seat in the chair just in front of Connor.

Gavin, who moved to the opposite wall, turns his head a bit, a smug expression on his face. Nothing good can follow that expression you're sure of it. 

"Could always try roughing it up a little...," he trails off for a moment, probably for dramatic effect, and adds with that same ugly smirk, "After all, it's not human..." Wow, how did you guess so accurately? 

Your face scrunches up in disgust, completely prepared to inform him of your disagreement, and you do get the first part out, ""That's not gonna help anything, Gavin, if you have nothing productive to say then shut your damn mouth." But once again, before you can continue and say something you may later regret, Connor jumps in.

Is it accidental good timing or intentional? Hm. 

"Androids don't feel pain. You would only damage it; and that certainly wouldn't make it talk", Connor pauses for a moment, letting you everyone process this new tidbit of information before adding, "Deviants also have a tendency to self-destruct when they're in stressful situations."

"Self-destruct?" Hank asks, his eyebrows furrowed. 

You know Hank hates androids, but it does make you happy that he's still willing to learn from Connor. He's trying his best- at least right now he is. 

"It's probably just a fancy way of saying that he'll kill himself." You respond before Connor can this time, repaying him for the interruptions (though you're only teasing). "Am I right?"

"That's correct." He offers nothing else after that. 

Chris heaves a heavy sigh in, what seems like, frustration, and when Gavin decides to open his big mouth again you have to fight the urge yourself. 

"Okay, smartass. What should we do then, huh?" 

The expression that morphs onto the androids face is one you can only describe as sheepish. Like he's embarrassed to speak what he's thinking. "I... could try questioning it."

Now _that_ is definitely something you wanna see, and from the body language Hank's exerting and the thoughtful expression on his face, you're sure he agrees. 

Unfortunately, and unsurprisingly, Gavin feels the complete opposite.

He laughs like it's the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard, the condescending snickers and looks he throws the android successfully pissing you off.

Hank throws his left hand up, shrugging almost imperceptibly as he concedes. "What do we have to lose? Go ahead, suspects all yours."

Normally, you'd be surprised that Hank's so willing to let an android try and do his job for him, but his mind is on solving the case. Good. 

Connor goes in without another word, and you watch with apt interest as he observes the room rather closely instead of going for it straight away.

He walks around for a few moments looking through the file, pacing around, looking at the mirror, before finally turning. It seems like he's trying to unnerve the suspect, good move. 

Once he finishes his overview of the atmosphere of the interrogation room, he takes a seat across from the deviated android.

Silence prevails for several more moments, it looks like Connor is analyzing the android across from him, when Gavin lets out another condescending scoff, now regarding Hank rather negatively. "I can't believe you sent that god damn plastic toy in. We're better off leaving it as is Hank."

Hank simply turns his head, giving him a look that tells everyone just how little he respects him, how much of an idiot he thinks he is. And, he undoubtedly is an idiot.

Hank doesn't say anything, letting his face do the talking for him, but you have no problem addressing what he said. "Gavin, there's no need to show your jealousy toward him. Put it away, you're embarrassing yourself." You cross your arms and look back to the glass, feeling a surge of pride in yourself for the comeback.

Gavin rolls his eyes and corrects you venomously, "Not him. It."

You get called out for humanizing the androids with pronouns and respect all the time, by more than just Gavin, and you know for a fact that this will be an uphill battle; so you opt to stay silent and seethe to yourself. 

The little argument between the two of you caused you both to miss some of the interrogation Connor is conducting, a very frustrating fact indeed. 

Connor's voice starts to get more intense as the android continues to refuse giving any sort of reply.

The nice, gentle approach isn't working, and while he can't be impaitent or frustrated, he still appeared as if he was. 

Connor shakes his head, and, faster than you can blink, he's slamming the file down on the table.

He flinches and glances up at Connor nervously, quickly adverting his gaze to stare straight ahead once more. 

He's frightened. 

The android wasn't the only one surprised though, because the action got Gavin to jump, even you gasped at the suddenness of it. 

"Well fuck, things are finally heating up." Gavin muses, though the contempt remains in his expression all the same.

You roll you eyes, something you just do on a whim at this point, and ignore him.

The intensity of Connor's voice is becoming unsettling though, especially with how much the deviant is trembling.

"Twenty-eight stab wounds, you didn't wanna leave him a chance, huh?" His voice is forceful and demands attention, and boy is he getting it. 

The detective-droid doesn't stop there; instead he keeps going, getting up from his chair after sharing a couple more words. "

"He was bleeding, begging for your mercy, but you stabbed him. Again, and again... and again!" He added emphasis in just the right places, all these tactics enough to even make you wanna confess - and you didn't do anything wrong!

All you heard after that is the soft, terrified voice of the deviant begging to be left alone. 

You can't hide the guilt on your face, luckily no one is looking at you.

It's not necessarily that he doesn't deserve this because, yeah, he murdered a man in cold blood; but if the reports are right and the horrible wounds are anything to show for it, then he only did what any other person would.

He was protecting himself, and now here you all are, grilling him, making him feel like he's nothing - just because he wanted to be something. Because he wanted to be more than a punching bag to that grotesque man. 

Now, Connor's trying to get him to confess to murdering Carlos Ortiz; yelling about admitting it as he slams his hands down on the table again.

And then he stops, rather abruptly at that, and sits down once more. 

He says a few softer words, and suddenly it's as if the flood gates have opened. 

⇑(Hank)

"He use to torture me every day..." He begins, going on in detail of the horrors he's witnessed and gone through, and Connor proceeds to ask multiple questions about lots of things. 'rA9', the statue, killing Mr. Ortiz, the works. 

You find it hard to focus, however, for the guilt is devouring your attention and bringing your conscience to it's knees. 

You rub the side of your face and glance up to look at Hank, noticing right away how pleased he seems.

Why wouldn't he be pleased, after all? You got a confession, lots of information on what exactly happened that night, and a rather vague explanation of that deity, shrine, worship thing from the bathroom. 

Of course, you're happy that you got the confession and some more insight on everything that happened in the home and after the murder, but...

No, it doesn't matter.

A man is dead. And, while you may not agree on the treatment of this android, murder is murder.

Even if he wasn't an android, he'd still be guilty of unnecessary lethal force, so it's not completely unjust. 

That's what you tell yourself, at least. 

You listen along silently for the rest of the interrogation, and once Connor's satisfied, he stands and heads to the door without so much of a glance back.

He stands there as Chris walks in followed by Gavin, yourself, and then, finally Hank.

You stand next to Hank by the wall in front of the table as Chris takes the cuffs off of the deviants wrists.

"Alright lets go." He sounds annoyed, maybe bored as well, but the moment he touches the android, it freaks. 

"L-Leave me alone!" He yells, starting to shake as he tries to get Chris away from him. "Don't touch me!" His voice is getting more frantic, and while he's becoming more and more unsettled, Gavin is getting angrier.

"What the fuck are you doing? Move it already!"

Chris takes the verbal beating like always and goes in again. 

Once more the deviant tries to escape him, and you begin to feel unnerved as his stress levels seemed to sky rocket. He's not going to kill himself, is he? 

Connor finally speaks up when Gavin moves forward to handle it, his voice firm and also severe. "You shouldn't touch it. It'll self-destruct if it feels threatened."

Gavin, of course, doesn't like that Connor is advising him on the best way to handle this, and as per usual, he treats it like a personal attack. "Stay outta this, got it? No fuckin' android is gonna tell me what to do." 

You narrow you eyes a bit and step forward, "Gavin I swear to god, if you don't start listening I'm going to punch the hell out of you! Don't you think he knows a hell of a lot more about this guy than you do?" You tried to rationalize, albeit poorly, wanting Gavin to back the fuck off.

Instead, he only gets more hostile, "Fuck off! Like I'm gonna let a weak bitch like _you_ tell _me_ how to do _my_ job. Chris hurry up!"

Chris looks at Gavin sharply, no doubt wanting to say something back, but he continues to try and detain the struggling android without a word.

Connor then speaks again, his urgency making you worry. What the android going to do if they don't listen to him?

"You don't understand. If it self-destructs, we won't get anything from it!"

Gavin keeps pushing though, "I told you to shut your fuckin' mouth! Chris are you gonna move that asshole or not!?"

The officer yells that he's trying his best, but it seems like Connor has finally had enough. "I can't let you do that! Leave it alone, now!" He grabs Chris and pulls him back an away from the deviant, but it seems that this is the last straw for Gavin. 

Gavin pull his gun, pointing it at Connor's head without hesitation, "I warned you, motherfucker!" He's practically screaming now, his finger already on the trigger and poised to shoot.

But you're also quick to the draw.

You pull your gun from its holster and point it as Gavin in return, feeling an alarming amount of satisfaction in this move alone. "Put it down Reed! Right now!" You shout, your own anger boiling over as well.

Hank just seems annoyed with it all, though hopefully not with you or Connor

"Mind your own _fucking_ business Y/N." He grinds out through clenched teeth.

And then, something awesome happens.

Hank, lazily and like he has all the time int he world, pull out his gun and points it loosely at Gavin. "She said, thats enough, detective." Hank was sure to put extra emphasis on 'Detective', and at Hank's demand he lowers his gun. 

He can't disobey his superior officer, after all. 

"Fuck, you're... you're not gonna get away with it this time...", Gavin then got in Connor's face for a few moments before he turned and stomped out of the room, yelling a few more profanities in his wake.

Fucking toddler.

You slowly holster your gun and look back to Connor worriedly. "Don't pay attention to him. He's a prick."

Though the determined look on Connor's face was enough to keep you from saying anything further for the time being.

He nods towards you and Hank, seemingly grateful, then turns back around and looks at the deviant with a cautious expression on his face.

Slowly and non threateningly, he leans down and reaches his hand out towards the trembling robot.

"Everything is alright. It's over now... Nobody is going to hurt you..." He allows the corners of his mouth to tip upwards slightly, a smile to reassure no doubt, before he turns his head again and looks at Chris with the same determination from before. "Please, don't touch it. Let it follow you out of the room, and it won't cause any trouble." His voice is confident but also assuring, and, if you didn't know any better, you'd think he actually felt empathy for him. 

He wants to make sure the deviant isn't put through anything else for the time being, and while you know it's for the soul reason of needing it for information, it still makes you happy. 

⇑ (Y/N)

Chris moves to the door with the android following along slowly, it's gaze locked on the ground until it passes Connor.

He stops and looks up into Connor's eyes, whispering something inaudible to you and most likely Hank and Chris as well.

You furrow your eyebrows for a moment, puzzled as to what was said to him, but decide to not mention it.

You watch the horrified deviant leave the room just as slowly as before, you being unable to control the sympathy you felt for him.

After a few moments you glance back up at Connor with curiosity sparkling in your eyes, looking over his expression very carefully.

He looks conflicted, and maybe even a bit concerned, but what really catches your attention is that it's not for show of anyone else. It's his own expression; authentic.

This prompts you to speak up, "Are you alright Connor?" Your voice is soft and soothing, an attempt to appear caring and non threatening, and it successfully makes Hank groan and flee the scene. 

Naturally, Hank is the tough one, the cold hard facts, amazing detective, so, of course, you have to be the softer one to compliment his rough personality. It comes naturally to you, though, since you've had a lot of practice speaking with victims of heinous crimes. 

Connor isn't a victim though, so maybe you need to remedy that... 

Connor's gaze drifts back over to you after a moment, and he nods his head without further delay, with conviction.

"Of course. I'm sorry if I caused you any concern, but I assure you all my systems are in order. Detective Reed didn't have a chance to damage me." 

Alrighty then. "Right, of course. Uhm, you did a good job Connor. We wouldn't have gotten anything out of him if it weren't for you." You then offered up a grateful smile, walking over towards the door which slid open immediately. "Come along then, it's late as hell and I've got some stuff to do." You state simply, waiting by the door for him. 

He walks out after you without hesitation, and, once he's out, you place your hand on the print reader and re-lock it.

Your eyes feel heavy and burn each time you blink, so, in an attempt to dispel the burning sensation, you rub your eyes a few times. 

It doesn't really work.

You just sigh in defeat and walk off, pausing when Connor calls your name. "Detective L/N, I was sensing strong discomfort from you when you entered the room after I finished my interrogation. May I ask why?"

He noticed that? Impressive, but also unfortunate.

"Oh, no it's... it's not like that exactly. You see I just uh, I felt really bad for him...I mean he went through a lot in that hell hole only to go through more here? We're supposed to be the good guys but I feel like a tormentor.." You rubbed the side of your face none too gently, leaning against the wall.

You, of course, know he disagrees simply even only having known him for a night.

"You needn't feel bad for it, Detective. The emotions it was displaying, they aren't authentic. Just errors in it's code and nothing more."

The way he calls him 'it,' so apathetically is extremely irritating. 

"I guess that may be true, but in my book emotions equal humanity." Your smile returns and you place a gentle hand on his shoulder. "All I know is that there's something more to all of you, no matter what you say." The curl of your lips doesn't disappear, but you do moments later.

You leave the room quickly and once again leave Connor in a state akin to shock. 

As much as you want to go home at the moment, it's already 1 AM, you know that there's still too much work to be done.

Not only do you need to finish writing your report on a case you and Hank investigated a few days ago, but now you've got to write up this one as well. 

If you're lucky, you'll get into your unstoppable-work mode and finish it all before 3, if not, you'll just have to suffer through another all-nighter. 

All that's left now is to avoid Hank, and you'll be-

"Y/N!" 

Uh oh. 

You force a smile once he comes into view and try to seem as inconspicuous as possible, noticing right away the disapproving eye he gives you.

"I know what you're thinking, and I'm not going to allow it. Go home kid, its' been too long of a day for you to stay here and do paperwork." He sounds sarcastic, but you can easily tell it's just him worrying for you. 

You are very aware of Connor closely observing your and Hank's interaction, something he seems to do a lot, but you push that to the back of your mind as you formulate the best response to get him off your back. "Mm, no can do. I won't stay until two this time though, I promise. You'll even have Connor here to keep an eye one me, isn't that right bud?"

He seemed to like the idea of not dragging around your new android buddy, so instead of arguing anymore Hank just crosses his arms and nods his head.

"Alright fine, but if I get to the station tomorrow and hear you slept here again, I'll kick your ass, ya hear me?" 

That sure made you laugh, but you don't hesitate in agreeing (even though you're definitely not going to do as he says). You stand up on your tippy toes and press a kiss to his whiskered cheek, hoping to get him to forget about his demands, but he just scoffs and fights back a smile.

You turn your gaze to Connor while Hank continues to stare you down distrustfully despite your efforts, "Hey, Connor, pal, let's go, uh, to my desk! Love ya Hank, gottagobye!" Anything to get Hank to stop looking into your soul like that. 

"Oh, alright. Lead the way, detective." 

Altercation with Hank eluded. 

\---

\- (Y/N- Neutral)

⇑ (Hank- Neutral)


	3. Technically Didn't Stay Until 2 AM?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk why I made the title so long, pls forgib.  
> Also, theres still some inaccurate stuff like how Connor stays overnight instead of going back to CyberLife Tower, but it's for the story!  
> Again, I switched this chapter and chapter 2 from the original because I messed up the timeline for anyone who may still be confused.

After Hank, and pretty much everyone else, left, the station descended into silence. Only a few people remained, like Captain Fowler who is staying in late again, Chris and his partner, Ben, who dragged the battered deviant to a holding cell where he would stay until further notice, and a couple other detectives and police officers who were working overtime like yourself.

That fact put you a bit more at ease, not having to sit in the dark department all by yourself.

Though, you suppose, you wouldn't be by yourself anyways since Connor is here.

You're standing idly in the kitchen with a bored expression on your face, waiting for the coffee maker to give you your dirty bean juice already. 

Connor is hanging around nearby, a few paces away from you actually, but you'd barely notice him since he's so quiet. 

It isn't until he suddenly speaks up that your attention is focused on him once more. 

"You and the Lieutenant seem close Detective L/N." Not a question, a statement. A fact. He follows up with his point right after, "But unfortunately I don't think he appreciates me very much." 

Your gaze, which was focused on the coffee maker, flickered over to him as a warm and slightly apologetic smile spreads across your face. 

"Ah, well Hank and I have been working together for quite a while now... it just takes time for him to warm up to people, so don't take what he says seriously, okay?" You keep your smile for a few more moments, seeing a small head bob from your right as he shows his understanding.

He reminds you of something for some reason, something you can't quite put your finger on at the moment; though you suppose you'll get it eventually.

You chose then to change the subject, "The Deviant seemed to be pretty upset, and um, like he was really scared. Why is that?" You couldn't help but ask, especially since he seemed to be very knowledge about about the subject of deviancy (and because he doesn't judge people who ask questions, one thing you're glad for). 

Your understanding on the subject is limited, but continues to expand the more time you spend asking questions and actually paying attention for once. 

His expression seems to change on its own for a second as he processes your question, seemingly thinking of an appropriate response. Everything he does is carefully weighted and thought through, you're almost sad to realize. Is it out of fear of being out of line? Or... is that just how he is? 

"Well, the deviant wasn't actually feeling emotion, Detective. It was emulating human-like emotions. Fear isn't in its' official programming. These feelings are simply errors in their software." 

"Yeah, you said something similar earlier..." You grumble a bit grumpily, turning around fully with your back pressed to the counter. "I guess you would know better than me, though." 

For some reason, the way he calls the Android 'It' like some sort of inanimate object irks you.

Something capable of even _copying_ emotions is more than human enough for you.

You want to argue, but, like you said, you don't know as much about the subject. All you really know is what you've seen and what he has told you, so no coherent argument can be made in your case this time around. 

This sparks another thought within you, however. 

"Isn't deviant such a broad term? The definition too vast? I mean, something as simple as speaking out of turn could be considered deviant behavior, right? Or taking a step to the left when you're supposed to go right. The line has to be drawn somewhere, doesn't it?" You don't mean to be combative or argumentative, but you're passionate about this. , 

You can see Connor's LED has turned yellow from thought, something not unique to him, while he takes your words into account, thinking it over like everything else.

His long period of silence worries you, afraid you have somehow offended him or something of the sort.

"Uhm, you don't have to answer my question I was jus-" You don't get to finish your sentence, because Connor is already interrupting you with his own response.

"Speaking out of turn IS a sign of deviant behavior, Detective, if an android is not programed to create conversation in the first place. Anything as simple as moving when told to stand still is a sign of deviancy, though only a small one. It is a broad term, but at it's core, it's all the same." 

His answer makes you sigh. 

Technically, he's right, but speaking strictly definition isn't what you're going for. 

You disagree, of course, but arguing this face any further will only prove to be an uphill battle for you. 

Silence washes over the two of you once more, and in this moment you remember that there's a nice hot coffee waiting for you. So you turn and grasp the pot, pouring yourself a cup with a smile upturning the corners of your lips. 

"Detective?" Connor calls suddenly, breaking you from your coffee induced haze. 

"Hm?" You hum to let him know you're listening, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

"You appear to be rather fatigued, and it seems that you may be suffering of an empty stomach." He doesn't sound particularly worried or anything when he says these words, but what you're really wondering about is how he knows that in the first place. 

His little report to you about your own health state makes you laugh humorlessly.

He's not wrong, you _are_ hungry and tired but right now, it's best for you to keep going and avoid distractions.

"You can scan people and tell whats up with their health? Your scan of the Lieutenant must've been really interesting then." You let out another laugh, this one with more of a fond tone to it than your previous laugh. "Don't worry about me Connor, it's an occupational hazard."

After your quick subject change you leave the station kitchen, making sure to turn off the coffee machine before you leave.

On your way out, you bump into one of the service androids, holding an empty coffee mug in her hand - a newly empty coffee mug. 

The, no doubt cold coffee, spilled all over her shirt, darkening the fabric considerably. 

You look up sharply and apologize frantically, immediately grabbing a bunch of napkins off of the counter. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to- I should've been paying attention!" You exclaim, patting at her shirt with the napkins in an attempt to dry the clothing.

Her LED flashes red for a moment before returning to yellow, and she replies happily, "Please do not apologize for my mistake, Detective L/N. I'll clean this mess up right away."

You shake your head quickly and drop the napkins on accident, squeaking not very dignifiedly as you dive down to grab them. 

In an attempt to save yourself from looking any more foolish, you start cleaning the liquid up from the ground, face feeling very hot. "N-No I'll take care of it- oh I'm so sorry. Please, finish whatever it is you were doing." 

The napkins are very damp and stained light brown, smelling of old coffee, by the time you've soaked up most of it. You clean up the mess on the ground frantically, feeling an awful mixture of mortification and guilt. No doubt she will be yelled at for taking so long because of you. 

When you hear her walk away, you slowly stand up and dispose of the drenched napkins, grabbing some more to finish cleaning up the mess.

"Detective L/N, allow me." Connor calls from above you, but you only ignore him and wipe it up faster. 

Once it's all clean and taken care of, you raise to your feet once more and find that Connor is looking at you thoughtfully. You're not so sure if you like that. 

"S-Sorry, you don't have to wait for me Connor." He doesn't reply, and you can feel your face getting hotter. You look away sharply to hide that fact, wanting nothing more than to disappear. "Thank you for offering to help, but I've got it under control."

Without further explaining, you leave the kitchen, and your delicious coffee, behind. 

You approach the little section where your and Hank's desks reside, sitting one desk away from your partner. 

There's an empty desk just in front of Hank's, and while most expect you to sit with him, you prefer to have your space all to yourself. Which is why you opted for a lone desk in the corner instead of right up against his. 

You lower yourself onto your seat after a time and roll closer to your computer, pressing the 'ON' button. Once it begins to boot up, you start to spin around in your chair, enjoying this moment of freedom. 

All that's left now is to wait. 

You keep spinning slowly in your chair for a time until you hear the soft ding from your computer, signaling that it has (finally) powered on.

Your computer is more than likely the slowest one in the entire precinct, and while a new one would be nice, asking Fowler for _anything_ is too scary.

For a moment there you completely forgot that Connor is still following you around, simply standing at your desk and watching your weird behavior in silence. 

You can feel your face heating up with embarrassment and guilt once more, completely having forgotten that he was waiting for you to let him go.

"Um, you don't have to wait for orders of anything from me. Feel free to walk around, okay?" You watch his LED flicker for a moment before he gives a nod and turns away, walking around your desk and down the long hallway connected to the evidence archive downstairs.

You watch until he's out of sight, then turn back to your computer so you can start to pull up your half finished report and get started on the new one.

It's 1:38 AM at the moment, time seems to be passing by extraordinarily slowly tonight, but you don't let that get you and and just continue humming quietly to yourself.

The process is simple really, but extremely drawn out and time consuming. 

Your fingers type away for quite a while as you allow yourself to get lost in your work; recalling details, conclusions you drew, etcetera.

You've always had this habit of typing rather hard against the keys of your keyboard, loud clicks emitting from your finger tips while you think and type simultaneously. Another reason you don't sit across from Hank. He complains about your loud typing all the time, saying it gives him a headache or is distracting. Personally, you like the sound of typing. 

Your head tilts to the side when the sound of footsteps coming towards your desk catch your attention; thus breaking you out of your almost trance like state.

Almost on it's own does your head turn to see who is approaching, and you're marginally surprised to see that it's Connor. 

The smile that plays upon your lips is tired and half-assed, but you're too tired to care at this point. 

A quick glance at the clock on the wall tells you that you've only been working for about an hour (2:49 AM), quite a long time for him to be looking around and quite a short time to be working.

It has only been sixty minutes, yet you're already feeling exhausted from staring and typing. Honestly, though, you're just glad you haven't got carpal tunnel as of yet. 

You watch Connor for a moment more, then turn back to the high tech computer in front of you and prepare yourself to resume typing; though you dread trying to get back into your zone after having been broken from it. 

Before you can continue to type, though, the android next to you speaks up, "Your fatigue has increased dramatically in the last hour. I would suggest sleep for at least seven to nine hours, the preferred amount of time for a female adult of your age and physicality."

You can't help but pout, for you have a rather irrational distaste for others worrying about you.

A soft huff leaves your lips before you turn around and give another one of your forced smiles, leaning back in your chair. "Sleep is for the weak, Connor. Plus, I've gotta finish this."

Your joke seems to go over his head once again, for his eyebrows furrow momentarily and his head tilts to the side ever so slightly. "Sleep isn't for the weak, Detective. Though a lack of it does _make_ you weak. Should I remind you that the Lieutenant said he would be upset if you stayed up late doing work? I don't think he would appreciate you going back on your word."

You let out a groan; mainly because you know he's 100% right.

Hank is for sure going to be in a bad mood tomorrow anyways. 

You run a hand through your (style) hair, looking around for a couple moments before your eyes land back on him. 

He's watching you carefully, an expectant expression on his face alerting you to the fact that he's going to bug you until you concede. 

"I guess you're going to insist until I comply, hm?"

His blank expression and slight nod makes draws a sigh from your lips, this time more dramatic than serious.

"I guess I can't argue with that then... but what are you gonna do?"

He doesn't seem to understand your question, you being able to tell simply from how his head cocked to the side again. "I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean, Detective."

You match his head tilt with your own and question with no small amount of curiosity. "I mean, are you just gonna stay at the station or did you get your own, like, super cool robo-apartment?"

Once again your attempt at humor doesn't garner a proper response from him.

All he does is step back when you get up from your own chair to give you your space, which you do appreciate.

"I'm in no need of nightly headquarters, so I will stay here and stay in an android compartment until I am summoned again tomorrow for the investigation." 

That makes you grimace a bit as you looked around the office area.

You hate being there all night working already, but imaging staying here all night with nothing to do? Not even work? That sounds like shit.\

Silence fills the air for a time while you consider his words, and then an idea strikes you. 

"Can I ask you something, Connor?" You begin, looking up at him curiously. 

"Of course, Detective." He replies easily, looking down at you in anticipation of your question. 

"Do you like to read?" 

Your question seems to throw him for a loop, for he doesn't reply right away and his LED turned yellow for a moment.

His head tilts to the side just a bit like you've grown accustomed to in such a short amount of time, and at that moment you realize that he reminds you of a puppy.

That troubling thought from a few hours ago now had an answer, and you are very much satisfied with it.

You aren't sure if it's the eyes or the way he tilts his head so often, but one thing you do know for sure is that it's pretty dang adorable.

Quickly pushing that thought aside, you zero in on him and wait patiently for his reply. 

Connor reaches up and straightens his tie, (a nervous habit, you wonder?) nodding his head along after a moment. "I haven't officially read any books yet, but I would very much like to."

That there was enough to bring another smile to your face.

Him saying that he'd like to, for some unknown reason, made you happy. Even if it's just something he's saying to win your favor. "Well... I may or may not have a collection of books in my desk that you might find interesting. Feel free to take a look, if you want." 

You swear that his expression brightened at your invitation to take a look at your books, but you don't comment on it in fear of him ceasing that altogether.

"Alrighty then. I'm sure you've copied my number down to memory already so feel free to, er, I don't know if you text but feel free to do that." You thought you saw a small shift in the color of his LED at your words, but you dismiss that and grab your things. 

On your way out you once again feel the heat of his intelligent eyes on your retreating form, and apart of you feels guilty that you hadn't offered him a place to stay for the night.

But at the same time you, feel you didn't know him well enough to invite him over to decrease his boredom.

It's too late now anyways, turning around and second guessing your finality would only make you look stupid and indecisive after all. 

The quiet drive back to your apartment is lame. You almost missed having a buddy to hang with when everyone else is gone.

The rest of the drive passed by in a haze, though, you were aware enough not to get yourself killed in an accident of course; and when you finally see that big building of bliss and sleep a bright smile comes to your face. A bright and tired as fuck smile.

You get out hastily, go inside, enjoy the air conditioning, and decide to take a nice warm bubble bath after downing your medicine with a nice glass of water.

This downtime is the best fucking thing ever. No reports, dead bodies, or handsome and problematic as fuck androids.

You just lay there, enjoying the warm bath... then your phone buzzes next to you. 

That made you scrunch your face up distastefully. Who the fuck is messaging you at 3 AM at night?

When you check your phone you spot that the message is from an unknown number, this immediately making you a bit suspicious. However, the contents of the message itself immediately make you relax and actually makes you smile. 

_Unknown Number: Sleeping in the next 10 minutes will grant you enough hours to arrive at work on time tomorrow._

⇑ (Y/N)

You smiled at that, deciding to save the number with his name.

A moment passes by where you contemplate whether or not if you should respond, but decided to say fuck it and went ahead anyways. 

_You: Alright mom, you better not tattle on me to Hank though._

You didn't wait for a response and instead put your phone down to enjoy the rest of your night; making sure to go to bed within the next ten minutes as so suggested by your knew partner. 

\---

⇑ (Y/N- Neutral)

\- (Hank- Neutral)


	4. A Damn Good Detective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added some extra Connor POV and interactions with Reader and Gavin to spice things up a bit- I hope it's good!  
> This ended up being so much longer than I originally anticipated... like, a lot longer.  
> Also, feel free to leave kudos and comments of what you think/feedback on my work! It's always much appreciated.

**Connor POV**

After you, and most everyone else, left, Connor decided to take you up on your suggestion and settle at your desk. 

At first, he doesn't do anything. He just sits there and looks around your neat desk with interest. 

There are a few things on the surface that catch his attention right away; those things being the picture of your family, another picture with you and the Lieutenant, the almost _overly_ clean nature of your desk, the unused mug that holds pens and pencils, small knickknacks at the corners, the small bulletin board littered with papers and clippings from newspapers, and the locked drawer sitting just above the one with those books you told him about. 

He focuses in on the picture on your desk, noticing right away that you appear significantly younger here, maybe 14, and you're standing with two adults and a slightly taller child - most likely older.

A scan of each of the faces on the picture tells him the adults are your (parents/guardians). You are, like he guessed, 14 years of age, and the other child is your sibling, 17 in this picture: _(Sibling Name) L/N. Status - deceased._

He reaches over and picks up the frame carefully, looking down at it still with furrowed eyebrows. 

The picture was taken in 2024, and it seems that you don't have any other pictures displayed here either. 

Your sibling died in 2026, 12 years ago, when they were 19 and you were 16, and you joined the force at 18. 

_Maybe it has something to do with her becoming an officer?_ He thinks to himself, moving to put the picture frame back in its original position. 

How troubling, but it does make him wonder how you can be so chipper with that under your belt. 

He _could_ access the record and find out what happened to (Siblings Name), pretty easily at that, but he refrained and figured that it'd be better to ask you yourself instead of snooping. 

The other picture is much more recent, sitting on an electronic picture frame that changes photos in 5-minute intervals. 

The current rotation has a photo of you smiling brightly and holding the camera with Hank's back turned while he orders something from some food truck called 'Chicken Feed'. You're giving the, most likely phone, camera a thumbs up as well.

It seems that there was only a few seconds left in this rotation, however, because seconds later the image shifts into a new one. 

Once again, it's of you and Hank, only this time there's a Saint Bernard dog in the photo as well. 

You're seated on some couch in a house he hasn't seen before with the dog laying it's head in your lap, meanwhile Hank is, begrudgingly, looking at the camera with a half-hearted smile. 

Despite the displeasure painting his mouth and furrowed eyebrows, however, he can see from the Lieutenants eyes that he's actually quite pleased. 

It's a nice photo, he decides. 

Connor finally moves his attention to the rest of your desk, his LED processor flashing yellow the whole while. 

From what he can see, there is not a single thing out of place. Every paper, pen, and knickknack on your desk has a place; and he seldom sees so much as a speck of dust on any of your little toys and things. 

You've got a small snow globe, also dated, a bobble-head in the shape of a dog (like the one in the picture), and a thriving Japanese Maple all in different places. 

He turns in the chair and looks back at Hank's desk, he has yet to look at it more deeply, and sees the same plant on his desk; only his is dead. 

The two of you have matching trees- how nice. 

The mug that holds all your writing utensils says 'World's Okayest Partner' on it, this fact making his eyebrows knit together in thought. 

_Okayest? Maybe it's some sort of joke_... It doesn't necessarily trouble him, but it does give him a pause since it's not being used for anything other than holding your miscellaneous writing tools. 

The bulletin board to the right of him catches his eye once again; but this time he takes a moment to actually observe it. 

There's a station newspaper clipping commemorating you on an excellent solve of a case last year, and another praising you for becoming one of the youngest detectives in the stations history. You've got documents on the law, the Miranda Rights, and the history of justice pinned to it as well, though he can tell it hasn't been touched in a while.

What interests him the most, however, is an excerpt from a witness testimony from a court case. The case is dated back 4 years ago, when you were 19 or 20, detailing a sexual assault that took place and ended up being brought to the courts. 

It appears to be well worn and taken down quite often, the natural oils from your hands having worn away at the paper over time, and it reads: 

"Detective L/N helped me when no one else would. She believed in me and opened a door for me that I had shut in my face time and time again. She gave me a chance that no one else would, and now, for the first time in a while, I feel heard. It was my choice to press charges. So, you can ask your questions and say what you will, but Detective L/N never coerced me, and never made me feel pressured to accuse anyone." 

He scans over the words on the paper once, committing it to memory easily.

Once he's done that, he decides to access the case file that goes along with this, figuring that it isn't intrusive since you have it on display, and he is not disappointed. 

> _Nancy Thomas, age 23._
> 
> _She came to the station after having been assaulted, but due to her whereabouts at the time of the rape and the lack of a rape kit due to contaminated evidence, she was dismissed by other officers._
> 
> _Y/N L/N, a recently promoted detective, got a hold of the case and met with Nancy Thomas._
> 
> _Having found ground breaking evidence at the scene of the crime and DNA samples on Thomas' clothes, Detective L/N was able to make an arrest._
> 
> _The matter was brought before a grand jury, and the defense attempted to have the evidence thrown out on grounds of L/N being accused of planting evidence and coercing the victim into pressing chargers._
> 
> _These accusations were thrown out on account of the victim's testimony and the assurance of the Police Captain himself._
> 
> _The defendant was found guilty and sentenced to 7 years in prison with chance of parole._

Connor's LED flashes yellow while he views the case, then turns back to it's normal blue after he finishes. 

_The risk on Detective L/N's part could have been detrimental to her career, but her success served as a boost in the field instead._ He finds it impressive more than anything else. 

He decides to take a quick peek in on her personal file, his LED going yellow once more while he accesses it. 

> _Detective L/N proceeds to close multiple cases in the following months of her groundbreaking sexual assault case with a near 89% conviction rate._
> 
> _An incident in which Detective L/N is shot in the line of duty halts her lead in becoming an Lieutenant within coming years._
> 
> _The psyche evaluation on Detective L/N shows that-_

Connor pauses and moves on.

> _In 2036, Detective L/N is reassigned to homicide as Hank Anderson's partner and her career takes off once more._

There's some information on cases they completed together, but he only briefly skims through them.

> _There has been some interest in Detective L/N for higher up positions within the department, but, due to her current psychological status, these advancements are being kept on hold._
> 
> _Pending further information._

He blinks a few times once he completes his analysis on her records and takes a moment to think. It's a lot of information, and there are many questions that he now has as well. 

From what he's gathered, it seems that there is a lot of emotion that backs up your work ethic and case record, where that emotion comes from, however, is unknown to him at this time. 

Having done enough searching on the surface of your desk, Connor opts to see if the locked drawer is _actually_ locked shut. 

It is. 

He contemplates just opening it without the key, he can hack into it quite easily since all locks are electric nowadays, but decides against it. 

With nothing else to do, he proceeds to open the drawer with your books and select one to begin with. 

* * *

**Reader POV**

Waking up the next morning is a challenge.

A really challenging challenge. 

You're just so comfortable; all wrapped up in your warm blankets, splayed out on your soft, inviting bed. 

Your job is extremely exhausting, it always has been, but the salary you're paid with sure does make up for the back breaking labor you put in.

Which was worse, though, you wonder. The long hours or the physical labor.

When you really think about it, the challenge is actually what keeps you interested in the job in the first place.

You really do seem to be made for the job, if you say so your self. Your body is pretty low maintenance, you can go a day or two without eating and only feel a little uncomfortable, and pulling all nighters has become almost second nature to you by now. You know it isn't healthy for sure, it's obvious, but that doesn't stop you. It can't. There are lives at stake, and if even a wink of rest can mean the difference between life and death, you'd give up every wink of sleep without hesitation. 

And... usually, a false promise to Hank keeps him from getting on your case about staying at the precinct all night (what he doesn't know can't hurt him), but somehow Connor managed to get you to leave even though your mind was already set on staying. 

That _never_ happens. Hell, even when Fowler tells you to go home cause he's sick of seeing you sticking around all night (his way of worrying for his officers), you usally just work at home.

These thoughts plague your sleep addled mind while you try to force yourself to wake up, knowing that your alarm will most likely go off any moment now. 

Finally, you find the strength to force your eyes open, and, after a moment of staring at the dark ceiling, you sit up and look over at the clock on the side of your bed. 

Your alarm usually wakes you up at 6:30 A.M. sharp, but today, having gotten up naturally, you're up at 6:20.

Now, you could lay back down and get those extra 10 minutes... nah. 

Depending on what you're doing in the office on any given day you may wake up a bit earlier, but on normals day you prefer arrive at the station by 8:10 at the very latest. Today not being an exception.

You go through your normal routine of taking your medicine, having an energy bar for breakfast, getting dressed in your usual (color) button up shirt and dark pants, brushing your teeth and so on. By the time you finish all that, it's only 7:04, so you decide to kill some time and actually do some laundry. 

After all is said and done, you get to the office at the prime time of 7:59 A.M., noting that there are only a couple others occupying the office.

Those others including Detective Dickhead (Gavin), Captain Fowler (this mans never sleeps), Chris, and the assistant androids.

You can't help but to smile, glad to be 'early' as always; it's something you pride yourself on since you've got so little to be proud these days. 

Your desk is nice and tidy as always when you arrive with a certain android nowhere to be seen, and, upon further inspection, Hank still has yet to arrive himself, and Gavin is in Captain Fowler's office.

But of course he is, where else would he be?

He was dead set on tattling on you and Hank last night for pointing a gun at him - for pointing one at Connor, but Fowler had his office locked and a 'Do Not Disturb' sign up, and even he knew not to bother him.

You watch for a few moments before taking a seat at your desk and powering on your terminal.

It doesn't take long for it to boot up today, this brings a smile to your face, so you get up and go to the lounge area to get yourself some coffee to start off your day nicely. Only, there is no coffee at the moment and the maker has only just begun to brew, so, crestfallen, you make your way back to your desk.

You're curious though as to where Connor is, but the mystery doesn't linger on your mind for long because, once in eyeshot of your desk, you see Connor sitting there surprisingly.

Not only that, but he's also reading one of the books you told him were hiding away in your desk.

You aren't exactly sure why, but for some reason it brings a rather fond smile onto your face.

When you became Hank's partner two years ago, you liked him pretty much right away; easily being able to tell that there was more to him than met the eye. Yes, he's rough around the edges, snappish, and grumpy a lot of the time, and your first meeting with the Lieutenant wasn't the best either, but that didn't stop you from liking him. 

It didn't take long for him to warm up to you, half a week to be exact, and once you wormed yourself into his heart, there was no escaping you. 

Perhaps it was your naturally nurturing nature (towards those you like, at least), or maybe just the fact that you wanted the partnership to work out, but it did take an awful lot of effort on your part in the first few days to continuously brush off his harsh words and condescending, snide remarks. Once you broke through his shell, though, you understood him so much more. 

He opened up to you about what happened to his son, about his likes and interest, and, for the most part, you two didn't keep secrets from each other. Although, you did have to find out about his alcoholism and suicidal tendencies on your own - and once you did, it broke your heart. 

This is something you're still working on. 

The point is that you like Connor already, especially since he didn't spend the first night calling you a lousy detective or anything like that. 

You trudge on over with your hands behind your back, and when you arrived in front of him you lean down a bit with a grin on your face, speaking in an even tone of voice. "I see you took my suggestion and got to reading. Whaddya think?"

The brown-haired android looks up from the book quickly, his LED flashing yellow briefly before returning to blue once more.

"My apologies, Detective. I wasn't aware that you had arrived. I'll remove myself immediately." Like the night before, he sounds almost sheepish, if not embarrassed, and it draws a hearty laugh from you. 

He starts to get up, having closed the book and delicately placed it back on your desk, but before he can get up, you place your hand on his shoulder to keep him there. You know fully well that you're no match for him in a strength battle, so if he wants to get up then he will. 

"No it's alright, I don't have to work until Hank gets here. Take your time, alright?"

Connor seems taken aback by both your politeness and insistency on him enjoying the book, but you pay it no mind and walk away again instead, pausing when he suddenly asks you a question, "Why does Lieutenant Anderson arrive late so often? It seems to be a predictable occurrence based on what I've been told." 

His head is tilted once again with the book open in his lap again, looking like a masterpiece in this moment.

Instead of standing there stupidly and gawking at him, you answer his question, "Because he spends most of his nights drinking of course. He usually gets here around twelve, but it varies day to day. I usually get here around 8ish, but more start to come in around 9:30," you pause, having realized he didn't ask about you and try to salvage it by adding, "Just to give you an idea of how we roll in Detroit P.D. of course." You trail off, awkwardly rubbing the back of your head while silently hoping he doesn't catch on to your discomfort. 

He doesn't seem to mind, though, for he continues with another question. "I think it would be beneficial for us to get to know each other better, Detective L/N. May I ask you some questions?"

Well, that's unexpected.

Is he programmed to ask questions about other people?

You have no clue, but you won't deny him his questions if he's only trying to understand you better.

"Go ahead, I don't mind." You continue to stand there with your arms clasped behind you, waiting for him to hit you with his inquiries, albeit you haven't a clue as to what he wants to ask. 

He starts off with a simple, "The picture of your family. It appears to be very outdated. Why is that?"

That certainly throws you for a loop. 

Of course, it's a given that he's extremely perceptive and naturally curious, but man is he starting off personal and strong. 

"Oh, um, I guess it's just my favorite photo of my family... We aren't exactly, um, close anymore - I guess you could say." Your words end off after that, for you're not sure how to continue with your response.

You don't have to though because Connor adds onto his previous question with a, "Why are you no longer close?" 

"O-Oh, well... I guess I can only chalk it up to what happened to my [sister/brother]." You tell him softly, pushing down your discomfort and distaste for talking about it since he doesn't know any better. 

"(S/N) died in 2026, correct?" 

You don't reply right away this time around, adverting your gaze to instead focus on your Japanese Maple tree. "Yeah..." 

How does he even know that in the first place?

Your gaze slides back over to him and you eye him skeptically for a few beats, asking slowly, curiously, "How did you know that?" 

That was your main question at the moment, how he figured out about that right away and knew what year it was.

"I'm able to scan a persons face from any time in their life and determine their criminal record, date of birth, date of death if present, age and some other things like weight and height if so desired."

Now that is fucking fascinating, but also no small amount of intrusive.

You don't even want to know if he scanned you, much less what it said if he did.

"Wow... uhm, this sure got personal fast. Got any other questions, Connor?" You're desperate for a subject change, preferring not to lose your cool in the middle of the office, especially not before lunch time.

Mental breakdowns are for post-lunch time events only. 

Thankfully, Connor seems to pick up on your discomfort, so he changes the subject. "Your case with Nancy Thomas four years back, you seem to be quite proud of it." 

"I am." You agree, wondering where he's going with this. 

"Tell me, what prompted you to pursue that case despite knowing that there was no proper evidence?" He seems genuinely curious, and it brings a smile to your face. 

⇑ (Y/N)

This is an easy one. 

"I've seen first hand how the justice system can fail someone; how their failure can hurt the victims more than any one person or event. One look at that report, one quick little glance into her eyes, and I knew I had to do something for her. Anything I could- within reason, of course." You sigh, thinking back on it with a small frown tugging at your lips, "She just needed someone to believe her, someone who wouldn't toss her case aside because her skirt was a 'little too short' and her heels were 'a little too tall'. Even if there was no evidence, even if I didn't get lucky in finding that DNA sample, I wouldn't change it. I have no right to wear this badge if I refuse someone justice simply because the case is hard." 

Your words grow bitter at the end and your eyes take on a faraway look, but you manage to snap from this stupor in a timely enough manner.

When you look down at Connor again, still sitting at your chair, you see that he's moved the book to your desk and his expression betrays his interest and... is that admiration? 

"You have seen it first hand?" He wonders out loud, piggy backing off of your original statement. 

"Uh, yeah. It's nothing of consequence." You decide to swiftly change the subject, "Anything else you'd like to ask me?" 

Connor doesn't reply right away, instead he just stares for a time, his LED yellow once more, before moving on like you urge.

"I was wondering about the books you keep in your collection. Most of them consist of romance, philosophy, and fantasy. What about these particular genres interest you?"

The question is simple enough, but at the mention of the romance novel you keep in your desk, your face turns red.

You forgot to take that out, a gift given to you from Chris's wife. 

"O-Oh, well I find fantasy to be interesting mainly because the author has to create a world of their own in order to catch the readers attention; and philosophy is intriguing because of the perspectives others have on our world. There are concepts so much more complex than any crazy math problem, you know?"

You attempt to avoid talking about your appreciation for a good romance novel, mainly because you want to avoid bias from your peers around you since it's such a 'girly' thing.

Connor doesn't let it slip by unacknowledged, though.

"You forgot about the romance genre, I would love to know all of your thoughts on these books."

Good god.

You smile sheepishly, rubbing the back of your head gently for a second, "U-Um, I think that romance novels are usually really sweet. I-I mean sometimes they're over sexualized or cheesy but I still find them enjoyable because... I mean... this job knows no romance for me. So a girls gotta get excitement from somewhere-" you cut yourself off right away, excitement is definitely the wrong word for you to use. "N-No I don't mean it like that, I mean more in a sense of um... uh... a place holder?" You pause again and shake your head. "A-Any other questions?"

When your eyes rest back onto Connor again, your face obviously red from your franticness, he seems amused almost.

His small smile is smug in a sense, and it elicits a pout from you in response. 

"I didn't think you'd be capable of making fun of me, how unfair." You take on a teasing tone and start to smile again.

⇑ (Y/N)

And then a thought strikes you. 

"Oh, the coffee should be ready now!" You're probably way too enthusiastic about this thought, but you heed it no mind and instead turn to go to the lounge area, "I'll be right back, Connor. Feel free to do whatever!"

When you enter the kitchen, you're dismayed to see Gavin standing at the table with a cup of coffee of his own, watching the TV with a bored expression on his face. 

Hoping that he'll not see you or ignore you, you pad over to the coffee maker as silently as possible and wait for the coffee to heat up and pour from the spigot. 

You have no such luck. 

"Well will you look at that, Hank finally let his dog off it's leash." The sneer on his face makes you wanna punch him, but you withhold your desire to see him knocked on his ass and just sigh. 

"Gavin, I'm really not in the mood right now. Why don't we call a temporary truce, and then go our separate ways?" You say this fully expecting him to clap back at you with something even more mean. 

But when he concedes and shrugs his shoulders, you begin to wonder if you're dreaming or something. 

Not wanting to break this nice little spell of tranquility and no hostility, you remain silent and just turn back to the coffee maker. 

"Y'know..." he begins, the tone he takes on putting you on edge. He's probably gonna say something idiotic or rude. "When you first started workin' here, I thought you were cute. Not too tall, not too small, nice ass, all that shit. But then you opened your mouth and I realized that your opinions are shit." 

Okay, you literally have no idea how to respond to that. 

"Is your idea of a truce really talking about my ass?" You ask him dryly, shooting him a very unimpressed glare. "Or is it some sort of weird pickup line?"

"Hey, I'm sharing my thoughts with you here, dolly, nothin' else," he pauses, then adds slyly, "Unless it's working." 

Oh, you want nothing more at this moment then to throw your coffee in his face, cause- HA that'll never happen. "Give it a rest, Gavin. I didn't wanna go out with you then, and I don't wanna now," you take a brief breath, then grumble, "Maybe if you were less of a douche I'd consider it."

"Really? If that's the case, then-" Before he can finish that statement, he's cut off by a new, but familiar, voice. 

"Detective L/N, there is something I need your assistance-," he's cut off by an angry groan from Gavin. 

You look over quickly and see Connor standing there with his hands behind his back and that cute little tuff of hair hanging in front of his forehead, his expression neutral with a hint of something else. 

A sneer makes it's way onto Gavin's face again and he looks down at his coffee, "Fuck, will you look at that. Our friend plastic detective is back in town!"

"Leave him alone, Reed." You grumble angrily, shooting him a glare while you add some additional things to your coffee. 

Of course, he doesn't listen to you. 

"Hey, congratulations on last night- very impressive." He tells him condescendingly, slow clapping with as much sarcasm as he can muster up. 

Connor turns slowly, his gaze adverting from you to instead focus in on Detective Douche, and he says nothing. 

Reed walks up to him slowly, his coffee left on the table, forgotten, with a smirk that promises nothing good. "Never seen an android like you before...," he pauses for a split second before asking, "What model are you?" 

His response to the question nearly makes you choke, you've begun to sip your coffee idly and see how this plays out, "I'm sorry, but I'm not authorized to answer you. If you have any questions, please contact your superior." 

An undignified snort leaves you while you try to hide your laughter, earning you a glare from Gavin over Connor's shoulder. 

It seems Reed is going for a different approach this time, since he then says more demandingly with more aggression, "Hey, bring me a coffee dipshit." And when Connor only tilts his head a bit, his expression blank no doubt, Gavin yells, "Get a move on!" 

"Reed, you already have coffee. Leave him alone." You snap, taking a step forward with your cup clutched in your hands. 

"I'm sorry, but I only take orders from Lieutenant Anderson and Detective L/N." 

Ok that's hilarious, so much so that the sudden burst of laughter that escapes you is inevitable... and so is Gavin's response. 

"Oh... oh I see!" His laughter is fake while he looks over at you with a smile betraying his barely controlled anger, and Connor's gaze follows his over to you.

And then Gavin punches him right in the stomach, a resounding thud drawing a flinch from you. 

Connor doesn't react right away, his left hand swinging up to press against the spot Gavin hit him in, and then he falls forward and lands on the ground with his free hand holding him up and one knee pressed to the ground. 

"Gavin!" You cry, placing your coffee down quickly so you can zoom over to the downed android. 

"When a human gives you an order, you obey." Reed hisses, leaning down so he can look at Connor in the eyes, "Got it?" 

Without hesitation you shove Reed to the side, glaring up at him with fire in your eyes, "I told you to leave him alone!"

"Oh really? Or what?" He challenges unwaveringly, poking his finger into your shoulder harshly, pushing you back despite your attempt to stand strong.

You grab his hand, the one he poked into your shoulder so harshly, and bring it down, [twisting it upward so his shoulder aims at an awkward position (visual gif).](https://i.giphy.com/xUPGcI8nIDx20UTHiM.gif)

"Ah- shit! Fucking stop that!" He shouts, doubling over to relieve the pain, only making you push his arm up further and bring him down closer to the ground while your other arm comes up to press against his shoulder blade. 

"This is 'or what', bitch." You hiss at him angrily, not even focusing on what he did to Connor anymore, "Pull something like that again and I'll dislocate your arm." You let him go after making your threat, stepping over to Connor to help him up. 

You grab his arm, much gentler than you did to Reed, and help bring him back to his feet before going over to the counter to grab your coffee again. 

"Alright, L/N, I see how it is. If you wanna play that way, then we'll play that way." He says nothing more after that, leaving the kitchen with his coffee seconds after his vaguely threatening warning. 

You don't dignify that with a response and instead take a sip from your cup, trudging over to the entrance of the lounge, "Come on, Connor, we can talk at my desk." 

The brown-haired android stares at you in silence for a moment before leading you back to your desk, but when you both arrive, everything appears to be in order. 

Eyebrows knitting together in confusion, you turn towards Connor and ask, "What's the issue? Everything looks fine." 

"Nothing is wrong, Detective." He begins, watching you carefully, "I actually did not require your assistance at all, though it appeared that you needed mine." 

⇑ (Y/N)

This clever bastard.

A smile brightens your face when he explains his intentions, and your appreciation for him skyrockets. The tone of voice you take on when you reply is chipper and appreciative, "Well, you were certainly right. Thank you for that, uh, and sorry for Gavin's behavior. He shouldn't have hit you." 

"There is no need for you to apologize, Detective, I should probably be thanking you anyways." He smiles when he says it, though you don't really agree. 

"Nah, you don't have to. He's a prick." You shake your head and sigh wearily, asking after a moment of silence, "Why did you collapse to the ground when he hit you? I thought you didn't feel pain?" 

"I do not, but when Detective Reed struck me, he hit my Thirium Pump Regulator, which caused a minor stutter in my systems." 

So what you're hearing is that Reed basically induced a mini android heart attack? Great. 

"Well, are you alright now?" 

"Yes, Detective, I am in optimal working order." He looks troubled after he says his piece, but you don't have to ask what's wrong because he speaks right away, "Your tactics on Detective Reed appeared to work very well... If I'm not mistaken, the move you used is a form of Brazilian jiu-jitsu."

You're surprised that he could tell from a simple move, but it also makes you puff up with pride knowing that your form was so good he could just _tell_. 

You nod your head along after a moment and take a seat at your desk, grumbling angrily to yourself, "Damn prick deserved it, too, he's just lucky it was an arm hold and not my damn fist in his face."

Your vengeful thoughts are disrupted, though, by Connor's voice rather close to your ear. "I'm sure you would end up regretting physically assaulting Detective Reed, even if it appears tempting." 

Before you can say anything else, he stands up straighter and fixes his tie, looking down at you. "Hank has finally arrived. Perhaps we should go speak to him?" He suggests, thus earning an agreeing nod from you. 

Please let the rest of the day play out normally...

\---

⇑ (Y/N- Warm) 

\- (Hank- Neutral) 


	5. Let the Deviant Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Runnin' behind on updating the chapters, but they're also like twice as long so I hope it's okay.  
> Should I continue to make it present tense or go back to using past tense?

You walk with Connor to Hanks desk, noticing right away that Hank is distracted.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

When he looks up his eyes fall on the two of you standing next to each other, and he surprises you with a sigh.

"Great, are you guys really forming an alliance against me? Is that what's happening right now? Y/N how the fuck could you do this to me."

That sure gets a laugh from you, and when you look up to see Connor's reaction, if he's smiling, you're surprised to see his eyes already on you.

You stop your laughing abruptly and look at him with questioning in your eyes, but he doesn't acknowledge that and instead looks back to Hank, addressing him this time. 

"We are partners, Lieutenant. I'm afraid I don't understand."

Aw, his innocence is so cute.

You open your mouth, ready to explain it to him, but before you can get so much as a syllable out, Captain Fowler's loud boisterous voice booms from his office. "Hank! Y/N! My office!"

You cross your arms over your chest and whine petulantly, while Hank groans loudly and complains about not wanting to deal with this shit today. Neither of you like the tone of the Captains voice, and, like last night, you have a sudden urge to flee. 

Of course, you don't flee cause you do like your job, so the three of you just head on up to the transparent office.

The three of you walk in, silent and a bit tense, Hank leaving the door open for you and Connor who are trailing behind him.

You take a seat in the chair next to the one Hank situated himself in, Connor settling for standing behind the both of you with his hands behind his back.

Hopefully, everything is good, because you really don't want to get yelled at for anything right now, you're too tired.

The Captain start off simply, "We've got ten new cases involving androids on my desk everyday. We've always had isolated incidents", he pauses for a moment, taking an agitated breath, "Old ladies losing their android maids and that kind of crap... But now, we're getting reports of assaults and even homicides. Like that guy last night."

You shift around in your seat uncomfortably, having a sinking feeling that you know where this is going; and if you know Hank, he's gonna be absolutely pissed.

"This isn't just Cyberlife's problem anymore. Its now a criminal... blablabla bla bl blaa."

You can't help but zone out, staring quietly at the face of your boss, observing his features while he speaks on the matter. 

It's obvious that he's going to assign the three of you to this case on the deviant epidemic, so there's no point in listening - not really. Instead, you begin to idly pick at the sides of your fingernails, nodding everyone once and a while to convince him you're listening when you're actually thinking about other things. Things like how the hell you're going to calm Hank down after you're assigned to this case. 

You're cut off from your thoughts rather suddenly by Hanks' displeased exclamation. "Why me? Why do I gotta be the one to deal with this shit?" He too give's a pause for emphasis before going on, "I am the least qualified cop in the country to handle this case! I know jack shit about Androids Jeffrey! I can barely change the settings on my own damn phone!" He knows he isn't getting out of this one, so why is he fighting so hard to stop the inevitable.

The Captains harsh response and their arguing back and forth begin to frustrate you, mostly because you've got the beginning of a headache coming on and this isn't helping it one bit. 

You chance a quick glance backwards to see what Connor's doing. 

Connor, who is watching from behind, seems rather interested in the altercation, probably wondering about Hank's relationship with the Captain.

He notices your frustration right away, no doubt from the anger and tension between the Lieutenant and Captain, and when Hank gestures back mentioning how much he, 'Hated those fuckin things', you narrow your eyes.

"Watch it Hank!" You snap, standing up swiftly. You've had just about enough of this shit, so you're gonna leave them to their useless arguing. "You can count on me, Captain. Now, if that's all then I will be leaving. We've got work to do after all." And with that you turn on your heel and leave, mainly because you know what's coming next, and you don't wanna be there for it.

You walk over to your desk, your feet dragging and shoulders droopy, taking your seat as you go through all the new files updated to your computer. 

Fowler really wasted no time in fully assigning you to the case. 

The sudden sound of quick angry footsteps catches your attention, and you don't have to even look to recognize that they belonged to none other than Hank Pissed-off Anderson himself.

You turn anyways to gauge how angry he is, and, based on his expression alone, you know it's best to leave him be for now.

Connor stands in the Captains office for a bit longer before walking out and lightly closing the door behind himself, and, when he approaches, you watch his gaze flicker from you to Hank.

Hank doesn't even acknowledge you when he sits down, simply crossing his arms as he glares at nothing in particular. Even though he is so obviously ignoring you, you flash him a quick smile before turning back around to the files on your screen. 

You know Connor is going to approach the Lieutenant next, so you decide to give them their privacy and get to work. Give them a little something to start with hopefully. 

Of course, you just can't help but eavesdrop just a bit to see what Connor is going to say.

He'd already completely 'wooed' you, so you're interested in what tactics he may try to use on Hank, especially since he knows that Hank already doesn't like him. 

Connor opens with a rather brown nosing remark, saying he's honored to be able to work with him and that he's sure the three of you will make an excellent team. That there was enough to simultaneously make you smile, and feel bad for him at the same time.

It will definitely take time for Hank to appreciate him.

He then went on to be optimistic, but when he continued not to get a proper response from Hank, he went ahead and just asked if he could have a desk. 

Hank's voice finally meets your ears, "No one's using that one", you already know he's pointing to the desk right behind yours, also across from Hank himself.

That's at least some progress.

Connor settles into the empty desk silently, then goes on and starts asking questions about Hank much like he had with you earlier. Inquiring about his good boy Sumo (the way Connor said that he liked dogs so innocently was honestly the sweetest thing ever), the type of shitty music Hank likes, and so on.

⇑ (Hank)

You've almost reached your optimal working zone, but before you can get lost in your work, you ear them start discussing the case itself.

Finally, you're getting somewhere.

You push off from your desk and roll over to the middle of their two desks, crossing your legs on the chair and planting your elbows down on their conjoined desks. "Now we're talking, there are so many cases detailed in the terminal, I don't even know where to begin...", you trail off and play with your fingers for a moment, "I read over 20 of them, though only a few seem like they'll get us somewhere."

The two of them look at you for a moment before Connor's gaze slides back to his terminal. 

You find yourself watching him rather closely while his pretty browns scan through the case files, and you're taken aback when his eyelids suddenly flutter and his LED spins yellow momentarily.

"Two-hundred-forty-three files...the first dates back to nine months ago. It all started in Detroit and quickly spread across the county..", He seemed to be in disbelief almost, "An AX400 is reported to have assaulted a man last night. That could be a good starting point for the investigation." He seems confident about it, so you aren't about to argue.

"Alright boys, I'll go get the car ready!" You exclaim excitedly, 150% ready to get the fuck outta here and investigate some real shit. 

You push away from their desks and roll back to your own, spinning around as you go with your arms up in the air.

Once you get back to your own desk, however, you notice that Hank has yet to acknowledge any of it and has actually turned away from Connor. 

From that alone you can tell that Hank isn't planning on being cooperative.

Now, you could butt in and lend Connor a hand... or you can let Connor handle the not-so-compliant Lieutenant himself and live the next 5 minutes stress free.

Opting for the latter, you start to gather your things necessary for the investigation.

Your gun and shield, Hank's keys which you swiped from his desk while he was pouting, and your notepad and pencil. Many opt to use their touch screen note pads, but you've always loved the feeling of a good pen and paper clutched in your hands. 

When you look back up, Connor is trying to get Hank to listen to him - like you figured he would.

You stand there and watch for a moment, your eyes narrowing at the body language Hank is exerting. He's definitely not happy, and if Connor keeps poking at the bear then he's gonna get bitten.

You can't exactly hear what Connor is saying at the moment since he's standing next to Hank at his desk and leaning down while he speaks, but let's just say you're not surprised when Hank suddenly grabs Connors' suit and slams him against the glass wall. 

"Hank! Behave yourself!" You cry, taking a few steps forward while stuffing his keys in your pocket.

Of course, he was too busy yelling at the brown-haired android to hear you.

Chris choses this moment to walk up, hesitance clear on his face. He doesn't wanna get caught in the crossfire no doubt.

"Lieutenant..."

Hank finally lowers Connor back to stand flat on his feet, what an excellent display of strength on Hank's part, but doesn't look away from him.

"Uh, sorry to disturb you. I have some information on the AX400 that attacked that guy last night..."

Connor and Hank continue their stare down while you just stand there uselessly looking at Chris.

There's no point in trying to break these two apart from their little quarrel, so you answer him instead. "Go on Chris, these two are just being brats. Thank you for the tip." 

Chris smirks at your words, nodding his head along discreetly. "Right, well the AX400 has been spotted in the Ravendale district, so whenever you guys wanna head over."

You nodded your head and step up so you're right behind Hank, said man mumbling a quick, "I'm on it" before leaving Connor standing there.

You aim a sharp glare at Hank while he walks by, but he only rolls his eyes at you in response. 

Everybody knows Hank is going to have a tough time adjusting to Connors' presence, which is most likely the reason no one was surprised by Hank basically assaulting him, but this is honestly ridiculous. You just want them to get along, both for the sake of the case, and your sanity. 

Your foot taps against the floor impatiently for a few moments before you turn your gaze onto Connor again. He's adjusting his tie to be nice and tidy again, looking at you while he does so.

With a weary and very tired sigh, you step up to him and place your hand on his shoulder delicately, looking up at him with a somber expression on your face.

"Why doesn't Hank like me, Detective?" He asks slowly, his eyes searching your face for an answer.

That question there pangs at your chest painfully. He just sounds so confused and he looks upset, because yeah it really does seem like Hank hates him.

"I don't think it's that he particularly dislikes you... he just can't get past some things..." You rub the back of your head sheepishly, removing your other hand from his arm after you say as such. "Maybe he'll tell you someday, but for now we've got a crime scene to get to, and Hank can't leave without these." After you say 'these' you hold up Hank's keys and wiggle them around with a huge, mischievous smile on your face. 

You turn on your heel after your confession and leave just like Hank (though, he's already gone and at his car most likely), Connor trailing behind with a thoughtful expression on his face.

Something is very intriguing about your attitude, about you; something about you is just so... enticing and interesting. 

He want's to get the bottom of this mystery known as Y/N L/N, but more than that, he want's to find out why his software instability rises whenever he's around you. 

* * *

It doesn't take long for the three of you to arrive in the Ravendale district, 10 minutes to be exact.

Hank got out first, having scolded you before leaving about stealing his keys, but you only laughed at his disapproving tone and told him to stop roughing up your new partner.

Upon leaving the car, you observe up and down the streets with furrowed eyebrows, writing down what you see, or, more so what you don't see, as you go.

Collins is there already like always, holding his digital notepad as he approaches, immediately getting into the debrief with you and Hank.

Connor stands off to the side by himself, looking straight ahead silently.

Maybe he doesn't want to seem like he's eavesdropping?

You're so busy gazing over at Connor that you end up missing most of what Collins said, so, hopefully, Hank will relay the shorter version to you in a few.

You direct your attention somewhere else when Connor turns his head to look over at you and Hank, pretending that you hadn't just been caught staring.

From the feel of how warm your face it getting, you can tell it's turning red from embarrassment.

Someone took the store clerks statement before you guys got there, and what he had to say was very informative. 

"What are you going to do with _that_?" Collins asks suddenly, pulling you from your thoughts forcibly.

Collins addressing Connor with the pronoun of 'that' makes your blood absolutely _boil_. God, you want nothing more than to yell at him for it, but not only would that be an impossible fight, but you'd look downright stupid making a scene over something so ridiculous. 

Instead, you choose the silently judging approach.

You cross your arms over your chest and pointed your nose up towards the sky with a pout on your lips, listening to the rest of the boring debriefing without saying anything. It's just so annoying, this whole dehumanization thing, but there isn't anything you can do about it. 

Connor then starts to speak, "It took the first bus that came along... and stayed until the end of the line." He pauses, looking at you and Hank with furrowed eyebrows, "Its decision wasn't planned, it was driven by fear." 

Hank shifts from foot to foot until Connor finishes speaking, then he looks over at him with disagreement all over his face, "Androids don't feel fear." 

"Deviants do." He counters, nodding his head slightly as he looks between the two of you. "They get overwhelmed by their fear and make irrational decisions." 

That sure throws Hank through a loop. 

The Lieutenant nods his head once and takes Connor's point into account, but he does still snark at him a bit, "Ah, well, that doesn't tell us where it went." 

"It didn't have a plan, and it had nowhere to go..." Is it just you or is his thinking face really cute? "Maybe it didn't go far." 

"You think it could still be in the area?" You inquire, intrigued and eager to hear more. 

"It's possible." He agrees, nodding his head decisively. 

Hank shakes his head and pipes up gruffly, "Lets not get ahead of ourselves now. We gotta take this one step at a time. And, that still doesn't tell us where it went"

Hank is right unfortunately.

His negativity still makes you pout, so, to get away from that pessimism, you walk past and head to the store entrance where you saw the clerk disappear from.

The investigation of the store is rather boring, especially since the guy at the register doesn't seem to know much other than the fact that the deviant android stole one-hundred bucks from the register.

Something that actually surprised you is that money was the only thing taken.

Not only that, but the fact that the deviant didn't pull a gun or even threaten him with nothing. How did she manage to distract the clerk?

He isn't telling you everything.

You rub the side of your face as Hank questions him, trying to see if there are any other details that might've been missed or that he may be withholding, but there's nothing else that you can get from him.

That stupid man keeps spouting stupid shit about 'fuckin androids', and 'that damn thing and it's little girl' it's just too annoying to listen along; so you leave the store and walk back out of the sliding doors, standing in the rain by yourself like some kid from one of the classic 2010's teen romance movies.

You lightly rub at the back of your head, a nervous/habitual tic that you've taken to, feeling an unknown, random sense of exhaustion all of a sudden.

A hand suddenly landing down on your shoulder draws your attention and a startled flinch from you, but when you look to see who it is, you immediately relax.

You turn your head fully and eye Connor, his usual diplomatic expression on his face.

"Detective, you seem to be very fatigued. I would suggest an hour long nap when we return to the station, or maybe early leave for the day once we're finished here."

⇑ (Y/N)

That thought there makes you laugh. Taking a nap? You? Never.

"Thank you for your concern, Connor but, uh, thats not gonna happen... we've gotta job to do." You offer an award winning smile, then returning your gaze to the buildings in front of you and allow it to drop from your face.

Hank chooses then to walk out of the convenience store, and, once he's within earshot, Connor speaks up again and allows his hand to drop from your shoulder. "The deviant stole wire cutters and a stuffed toy from the convenience store..." 

You realize right away that the toy was for the missing daughter, but the wire cutters and money still are a mystery at the moment.

Connor seems to be thinking about that as well judging by how his attention snaps over to the house just across the street.

Your eyebrows furrow for a moment when you follow his gaze over to the shabby, broken down home when, suddenly, it dawns on you.

His next words grab your attention and hold it hostage, each word leaving you hanging off the edge, on the brink of understanding, "Maybe they didn't go far at all..."

If you hadn't already been catching onto what he was saying it would've sounded quite ominous, but it makes perfect sense.

Connor looks back to Hank sharply, intelligence shining in his sweet brown eyes, they're most likely made of glass.

You bite your lip, a part of you not wanting to find them given the context clues. 

Orders are orders though.

"You think you know where they went?" You wonder out loud, already knowing the answer to this. The only reason you ask is to give him a chance to prove just how capable he is.

"Yes..." He tells you absent mindedly, heading across the street quickly and leaving the both of you in his wake.

You and Hank exchange a look, his expression doubtful while yours holds that ever present excitement that Hank says gets you in so much trouble.

Hank moves to follow after Connor first, and you follow after him without hesitation.

Connor walks along the fence line slowly, deliberately, looking for any and all signs of entry.

You and Hank trail behind him cluelessly, clearly not able to see what he can, when Connor suddenly pauses, kneeling down in front of a specific area in the fence. It appears to have bee cut... by wire cutters. 

A low whistle comes from you as you watch silently, feeling impressed with him for having found it so quickly. 

He lifts the break in the fence up, showing a flap big enough for a smaller female android to get through - as well as a child, of course.

You tap your chin a few times thoughtfully, peering down at him with your head tilted curiously to the side. "Looks like she went in here with the little girl. Nice going Connor." You praise him with a smile, then turn and gesture for the forensics team to come over and open up a better place for all of you to get in.

⇑ (Y/N)

⇑ (Hank)

The forensics team make their way over slowly, way too slowly, and for all you know this is giving the deviant and girl a chance to escape.

Hank and Connor can't fit through that hole, but you sure can. So, you get down on your hands and knees and crawl through the space before anyone can stop you, jumping up to your feet once you're through.

"Y/N, what the fuck are you doing?" Comes Hanks' irritated voice from just behind you.

You turn and give him a thumbs up, completely ignoring his disapproval in favor of enthusiasm

"Get back over here right now." He demands, glaring at you through the chainlink fence.

You pretend to think over it for a moment, a smile on your face while you tap your chin before you twirl around and whip your gun from it's holster, pointing it at the ground with your finger on the side of the gun above the trigger. "I'm just going to check the perimeter. Take notes boys, because the real detective is at work", You teasingly blow a raspberry at the two, then turn and head off around the side of the building without further delay. 

"Y/N! Y/N, jesus christ, get your ass back over here!" He yells angrily, though his demands fall upon deaf ears.

Hank calls your name a couple more times before cursing and complaining about how stubborn you are, and though you can't see his face, you can image the scowl nonetheless.

On your way around the side of the building you notice a window with a little hole in it, so you decide to take a little peeky peek inside.

All you see is a singular android in the middle of an old, shabby room. It's dark and moldy, looking none too pleasant. 

The android doesn't move an inch, just standing there, looking ahead with a mask of nothing shrouding his features. 

You aren't quite sure what model the android is, but, judging from the red LED rapidly circling on his temple he's most likely a deviant as well.

He's standing so still, his hands are trembling too, almost as if he's expecting you.

You continue to scale around the building, not finding anything else on the surface and when you return to the front Connor and Hank are there.

Connor is walking to the front door, and, once he has sights on you, he looks over at Hank and call's loudly, "Anybody home?"

When you round the corner fully, the brown-haired android looks over at you, his eyes scanning over you briefly before he nods his head in acknowledgement.

"Lieutenant Anderson and I would much prefer you didn't go on your own. Let me come along next time so I can ensure that you remain safe and unharmed." He gives you a simple and small smile, glancing at Hank once, before stepping up to the front door. 

The door opens up for him without problem and he disappears inside without hesitation.

Once he's gone Hank turns his sights on you and advances with agitation and anger rolling off of him in waves.

He grabs your forearm roughly, pulling you a bit closer with a stern (and furious) expression on his face.

"Don't EVER pull something like that again. Do you hear me?" Each word is practically dripping with exasperation, and his grip is like iron on your arm. "What if there was something behind the building that we couldn't see? When I tell you to stop, you fucking stop! Good god, if something were to happen to you-" He abruptly cuts himself off, his anger lessening and making way for dismay.

Oh god damn it, he's really out here making you feel guilty now isn't he?

You aim your gaze down at the ground, your eyebrows furrowing with a guilty, regretful expression taking over your features. 

His way of showing concern sure is gruff, but you understand why he's upset. It wasn't fair of you to just take off like that, especially knowing how much he cares about you- knowing what happened to Cole.

You still decide to take the sassy, aloof route. "Gee, Hank I didn't know you cared about me this much." Your head tilts to the side while you speak, and it seems that your sass is annoying to him. The look he gives you, the disappointed dad look, brings a pout to your face. You can't help but to concede your regret and admit your defeat. "Ugh... Okay I'm sorry alright? But it isn't my fault you and pretty boy robot can't fit through that little hole..." You cross your arms over your chest, preparing to continue on with your ridiculousness when you hear an unfamiliar yell from the house.

Hank walks around you quickly and into the doorway of the shabby house.

"Connor, what the hell is going on?" He shouts, advancing still with you hot on his heels.

Connor turns, looking like he's ready to run, when he informs you both of what just took place. "It's in the area, call it in!" 

He then runs out the back door, leaving you and Hank to run after him. 

You two zoom out and back to the sidewalk as quickly as you can only to see that Connor is already half way down the block. Of course, neither of you are built for this kinda thing so it makes sense that you wouldn't be nearly as fast as he is.

You and Hank exchange a look, one that portrays just how much you two _don't_ want to run after him and do all that exercise, before taking off the same way after him.

When you both get to the alley way that they all disappeared down, the deviant and girl had jumped down and Connor looks ready to do the same.

The three of you stand there, just watching them trying to cross the highway, before Connor suddenly starts climbing.

Before he can get even halfway up Hank grabs the back of his shirt and yanks him back down to the ground, "Hey! Where are you goin'?"

Connor looks at Hank sharply, his expression almost desperate when he yells, almost pleading with you both. "I can't let them get away!"

The highway right in front of all of you drowns out a lot of the noise, so you have to yell simply to hear each other.

Hank keeps his hand fisted in Connors clothing on the back as he assure him, "They won't! They'll never make it to the other side." He releases Connors coat after a moment and takes a deep breath, planting his hands on his hips while he watches them make their escape. "You'll just get yourself killed. Stay here." His voice leaves no room for argument, and you have no objections. 

"Just let them go... The little girl, she isn't struggling, and we could put her in more danger if we interfere. We just have to leave it, okay?" You try your best to rationalize your viewpoint, you hand coming up to lay upon his shoulder gently. 

Connor stands there at the fence, his hands clutching the chainlink separating all of you and the highway, and for a second you're afraid he might just try to go after them anyways. He doesn't.

⇑ (Hank)

A quiet, tired sigh leaves you while you watch the deviant and girl safely escape to the other side.

And, honestly, you're having a tough time being upset about them getting away.

The greasy guy, Todd Williams, who came in to report it in the first place seemed like a total piece of shit. Everything from his demeanor to his horrible personality just screamed "douche bag" and one peek into his personal file told you exactly how true that really was.

From what you know about deviancy on its' own, it doesn't happen for no reason.

Extreme stress, fear, anger - things like that cause an android to go deviant. With all the facts you currently have (the little girl, the deviancy, Todd's behavior when speaking to Chris), you believe that this all might just be to _protect_ the little girl. There's little doubt in your mind that this _Todd_ was abusing his daughter, and, given the state of the house upon arrival of the first responders, the deviant was just protecting her. 

This line of thinking troubles you greatly, mostly because you have a _job_ to do, and it's not proper to be feeling happy that the criminal got away.

You step back from the fence once they're out of sight, shaking your head slowly. "Lets just go. There's no point in wasting our time here..." Your voice is soft while you mumble your message, then you turn around completely and head back to the car.

Hanks' car is slick with rain, the hood of it shining in the dim light of morning while water droplets race down the windows.

You stand there for a moment, simply watching the rain take it's natural course down the slick surface of the vehicle, before leaning back against the door and allowing the rain to seep into your already soaked clothes.

You're still extremely tired, that sudden burst of energy needed to run after Connor certainly didn't help this fact, and very much ready to head back to the station for that nap suggested by Connor despite your dismissal of it originally. 

Your two partners head over to your position shortly after you get there, Connor looking rather troubled with Hank appears just as irritated as usual.

A smile worms its way onto your face when you see the two, and, not wishing to delay any further, you kick off from his car and climb into the back when you hear that telling 'click'.

You cross your arms behind your head and look at the ceiling of Hank's car silently while they situate themselves into the front seat, not missing the glare Hank throws at you.

"Put your damn seatbelt on." Is all he says to you.

Of course, you comply and buckle up, staring at the back of their heads while you wait for him to get going already.

The silence is rather uncomfortable, for some 'unknown reason', so you decide to attempt to lighten the mood. "Well, that surely went well now didn't it? Nobody died, I think that's a win!"

It's so quiet in the car that you could probably hear a fly land on the windshield.

When the silence prevails and still nobody laughs, you pout like a child and cross your arms over your chest petulantly.

You can see Hank rolling his eyes like he usually does, and you're assuming Connors' expression didn't change.

"Alright, I get it. I know when my jokes aren't wanted. Sit in silence then." Yeah you're just a little salty about that.

You keep your oath of silence and lean your head back against the cushions behind you, your arms still crossed over your chest. Your eyes slide shut when nobody tries to console your wounded pride, deciding that falling asleep in the car would be both beneficial, and a wonderful screw you to them for not liking your joke. 

\---

**Mixed Hank and Connor POV**

The majority of the drive passes by in complete silence; you having fallen asleep in the back of the car with Connor sitting silently and Hank driving without so much as a word.

When you sleep, you _sleep,_ so Hank decides to use this moment to speak up. "What were you two talkin' about when I walked outta the store earlier?"

He has a bit of an idea considering how tired you've been lately (yeah he noticed!); how sunken your cheeks have been; how dark the bags under your eyes are. It worries him to no end, but with his own problems weighing him down he hasn't had a chance to properly help you. The last thing he wants is to make things worse after all.

Connor thinks about it for a few moments, unsure if you would want him to share something personal like that, but he reminds himself that you and Hank are friends, so he decides that there is no harm in it.

"I suggested to her that she get sleep when we arrive at the station. Her fatigue levels have been steadily rising over the past two days, and it appears she takes very poor care of her health. I have also noticed that she doesn't eat when she's hungry, and the only hydration she receives seems to be from caffeine." He ends his diagnostics there, peering curiously at the Lieutenant to see how he will react to this information.

Hank lets out a very audible sigh, glancing in the rear-view mirror at your exhausted form. "God damn it..." His eyes return to the road, and he shakes his head disapprovingly. "Damn kid doesn't know when to quit." 

Connor's curiosity seems to peak when he detects the worry and fondness Hank holds for you. He wants to be close with the both of you, especially since you're going to be working together, but as of right now he's afraid he isn't going to get very far with the Lieutenant.

"Well... if there's anything you'd like me to do, feel free to ask me Lieutenant."

⇑ (Hank)

Hank is taken aback by that, to say the least.

Yeah, the idea of having a super advanced robot watching over you is tempting, but he isn't exactly sure how much he can trust Connor yet; he's not confident that Connor won't choose his mission over either of you.

Hank shakes his head, not wanting to deny the help but also not wanting to put your wellbeing in his synthetic hands either. "Just... just don't let her push herself to the breaking point. If she's on the brink, you need to stop her and tell me." Hank looks at Connor from the corner of his eye, adding straight after, "If there's anything else I need, trust me I'll sure as hell tell you." 

You might've already warmed up to Connor, but Hank sure as hell isn't going to leave it all up to this plastic android until he is 100% sure he can be trusted to not sacrifice either of you for the job.

Meanwhile you remain completely oblivious to the entire conversation happening right in front of you, about you, in your deep slumber.

 _It's better this way,_ Hank thinks to himself, knowing for sure that you would object to all of this adamantly. 

\---

⇑ (Y/N- Warm)

⇑ (Hank- Neutral)


	6. Curse-less Cop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally catching up. Hope you enjoy!

When the three of you left the scene, it was around 2:00 PM, and, as of right now, the three of you don't have anything to do really. 

Hank decides to just drive around for a little while, wanting you to get the most out of your nap, but eventually he does start to get hungry. 

It's around 2:40 when Hank begins to feel hungry, and 2:50 when he arrives at his favorite food truck, Chicken Feed.

He doesn't wake you up right away in favor of giving you as much time to rest as possible, glancing at you in the rearview mirror occasionally. 

The rain hadn't been too bad when you first arrived at the Ravendale district, but now, as you're all sat outside Hank's favorite burger restaurant, the sky has darkened considerably.

The clouds are grey, dark and billowing as their sorrow washes cars for free, soaking people down to the bone, ruining hair and soaking clothes. 

The rain is only a bit heavier, luckily enough, and serves only to lull you into a deeper sleep.

Hank turns in the drivers seat and stares at you for a time, his expression soft and treacherous to his outward image. 

Connor watches on with an abundance of interest, his eyes scanning over your resting form and Hank's countenance. 

After looking at you for a bit longer he decides that you need a good, big meal in you for once. So, Hank reaches over and shakes your arm a bit. 

You make a noise of discontent and your best to ignore it and sleep more, but you're ultimately brought from your slumber when Hank starts to shake you a bit harder.

"We're at Chicken Feed, get your ass up and outta my car already, or I'll make you pay."

To anyone else he would've sounded like he was being a dick, but the fact that he chose to wake you up for food at all is very nice. 

You smile lightly and nod your head, rubbing your eyes lightly to dispel the sleep and regain some of your energy. 

When you drop your hands back to your lap and look up, you catch a glimpse of Connor looking at you through the rearview mirror, his LED appearing yellow for a second before going back to normal when he realizes you can see him looking.

You flash him a quick, bright smile before getting out of the car yourself, quickly glancing around the area for any signs of trouble first. It's a habit that almost all officers have. 

You walk around the side of the car and wait for Hank to get out patiently, your arms clasped in front of you while you wait. 

The door swings open, so you take this as your cue to head across the street - but not before giving him a kiss on the cheek which he leans down to receive. 

You're not exactly hungry right now, but there's no way you're going to deny free food (also if you refuse, you're not entirely certain that Hank won't force feed you).

The sound of screeching wheels and Hank cursing grabs your attention, and when you turn your head you see that Hank literally almost got ran over by a car. 

The Police Lieutenant shoots the driverless car a heated glare, one scary enough to wither a flower and make babies cry you'd bet, before turning back around and joining you on the sidewalk.

Connor finally gets out of the car a few seconds later, but you figure that he'll make it across the road with ease, so you don't need to watch him.

The server guy seems to be pretty familiar with Hank with his, "Hank! How you doin'?" And it makes you wonder just how often he comes here to eat.

You hold your hands behind your back and look up at the menu idly, an approaching form in your peripherals catching your attention. 

Some random short guy comes running up out of nowhere calling Hank's name, his familiarity with Hank being the only reason you don't go on high alert.

Hank orders for you before you can read the menu or even protest, then he turns to the small man. 

Once you get a better look at him you realize that you already know this guy; you know this guy, _and_ you don't like him.

He helps feed into Hank's illegal gambling, scratching that itch that really just needs to be checked out by a doctor already, but even though you hate that he does it, you'll never let him get in trouble for it either.

Mainly because it _is_ technically a victimless crime, and he seems to enjoy it. It's a bad thing for him to enjoy, but at least it's something.

You continue to look up at the menu despite Hank having ordered for you, pretending you aren't listening to their conversation when, in reality, you are.

It appears Pedro is trying to convince Hank to participate, and as much as you want to snap at him to fuck off, you know Hank won't appreciate that one bit.

You turn after you finish observing the menu and notice Connor standing there with an intense expression on his face as he eyes the man speaking to Hank and the one inside of the small street restaurant. Is he concerned for Hank? 

You figure Connor is probably looking over their files, like he told you about this morning, but you see no problem with it so you don't acknowledge it and opt to just watch the man make your food. Incase he gets up to anything shady. 

Hank sounds pretty positive seconds later, telling the shorter guy, "Alright I'm in."

You have to physically prevent yourself from grumbling and letting everyone know of your distaste, this only becoming harder when Pedro starts spewing crap like, "You won't regret it!"

Of course he'll fucking regret it if he loses again.

Connors' eyes are practically boring holes into Hank's back when he steps up between the two of you, and, for a split second, you fear that he might try to rat on Hank. 

This thought only flutters briefly through your mind before you remember just who you're thinking about here.

You shake these thoughts away and recompose yourself to appear uncaring and apathetic, lazily looking back over at your two boys (that's what they are! Your boys) standing further to the left of you.

Once Hank registers that Connor joined the two of you, he asks the brown-haired android with irritation seeping into his voice, 'What his problem is', all hostile like, thus making you sigh dramatically. 

Of course, your discomfort and frustration towards their bickering goes by unnoticed, as per usual, so you just stand there and listen to Hank scold him about listening when he's told to do something.

And then Connor apologizes.

That's right, _Connor_ apologizes to _Hank_ for what happened back at the station.

⇑ (Hank)

Hank makes fun of him a bit for that, but you can tell it actually made it him happy. 

You still scold him, though. "Hank stop bullying him already, he's only doing what he has to ya big grump." 

You defending Connor only gets you another eye roll and silence.

After this little 'altercation', the guy making your food finally turn around and give's you both your orders. Hank got himself a soda and burger, and, unfortunately, got you the exact same thing.

You hold it with a sour expression on your face but decide not to complain and follow Hank over to one of the tables nonetheless.

"Hey, don't leave that thing here!" The man in the cart has the gall to yell to the both of you while you retreat. 

You turn quickly and throw him a withering glare before stepping up to Connor and looping your arm with his, "C'mon Connor, let's not dilly dally now." 

The jab from the server calling Connor a thing irked you quite a bit, but it seems like you're just going to have to get use to it since Connor is around you guys constantly now.

You lead Connor to the table and set your things down, removing your arm from his so you can carefully unwrap your lovely gift. 

It smells good, this fact is irrefutable, but if you eat all of it you're certainly going to feel sick afterwards. 

Connor places his forearms on the table, leaning forward slightly as he glances over the food sitting in front of the two of you.

"Your meals contain 1.4 times the recommended daily intake of calories and twice the cholesterol level. I don't think you should eat that, Lieutenant." Connor pauses for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing, when he adds, "Detective Y/N could possibly get away with it." 

Gosh darn it, you can't help but to smile, a puff of laughter escaping you despite your efforts to keep it in. 

⇑ (Y/N)

But your laughter is cut off quickly at Hanks' rather not funny words. "Everybody's gotta die of something."

The look Connor gives Hank appears like he thinks it's funny, and Hank seems like he's joking around too, so you allow the smile to return to your face.

Connor proceeds to ask Hank questions about his 'friends', mentioning how Pedro is engaged in illegal activities like gambling and the food truck employee has been in trouble in the past as well. 

The way Connors' voice lowers at the 'illegal activities' part strikes you as absolutely adorable, almost like he's afraid that if he says it too loud cops will ascend from the heavens and take Hank away for his misdeeds.

This thought makes you snort, mainly because of the ridiculousness of that image playing in your head. 

Connors gaze slides back to you when you draw attention to yourself, and you feel your face heat up without missing a beat. 

You cough behind your hand to hide you fond smile, clearing your throat after to really sell it.

After, you give him a questioning look and drop your hand back to the table.

"I would suggest you try and eat as much of your food as possible, Detective. I noticed you didn't eat a proper breakfast; so, in order to maintain proper homeostasis within your digestive system, eating more would be beneficial."

So this is what it feels like to be scolded by an android for making poor life choices.

You make a face, now understanding Hank's sourness over Connor commenting on his cholesterol. 

You lift the burger up slowly and make a show out of taking a nicely sized bite. 

Once you swallow the, slightly too greasy, but delicious bite, you ask sarcastically, "You happy now, mom?"

Of course, you're joking around, but Connor seems to be deeply troubled by your statement.

"You called me 'mom' last night as well, but I'm fairly certain I'm not your mother."

Your silly smile drops from your face and you can't help but just stare at him incredulously for a few moments. Does he really not get it? 

Meanwhile Hank is just cracking up to your right, not even trying to hide his amusement from you.

You sigh long and wearily, then reach over across the table and lightly flick the unruly lock of hair that always hands in front of his face. It's meant to be an endearing action, though it only serves to surprise the android. 

"It's a joke Connor. Like, um, an enduring joke that people use to mess with their friends when they're being too worrisome."

You rest your chin on your hand, ignoring the look Hank gives you when you finish speaking, and wait for Connor to mull over your words for a moment. 

Connor is quiet for severals seconds as he thinks it over before he gives you a nod of confirmation.

"Oh! I think I understand now. So then I would respond by calling you 'dad' - like when you tell people to leave me alone, correct?" He says it so innocently, obviously not understanding the joke still, but he's trying so hard. 

You shake your head while chuckling, fully ready to explain that it's similar but not the same, but Hank beats you to it.

He doesn't hold back in the slightest as he roars with laughter, a sound you love to hear.

What you don't love to hear, however, are Hank's next words. "No, trying calling her daddy instead. It has a better affect!" Hank laughs even harder at his own joke, no shame or pulled punches.

It's obviously one of his millennial jokes, but that doesn't mean you aren't flustered by it. Because you know exactly what he's going for, and you know just how mortified you should be by that.

God, the mere thought of him calling you that makes you wanna die.

"No! Connor don't listen to anything he says. Don't call me daddy, o-or dad!" You don't know what else to say other than that, just praying that he'll listen.

How fucking embarrassing though.

Especially since Connor still doesn't seem to get it. 

"I'm afraid I still don't understand... But Detective L/N will suffice for now." He decides after a moment, causing you to sigh with relief. 

Hank is an evil bastard sometimes. He really just tried to set you up like that - good god if Connor were to ever say that you would promptly, immediately, absolutely DIE of shame, shock, and embarrassment all at once.

You still love him though.

"You smug sonofa-" You're cut off by Hank shoving your soda in your face, the straw poking you in the lip and successfully halting anything and everything you were going to say. 

"Watch it Y/N. You're not allowed to curse, remember?" He always say's that any time you try to curse him out, still acting like a smug bastard.

You just groan and accept your drink, taking a couple sips as you eyed them both quietly. You don't have the energy to tell Hank to frick off. 

Connor seems very interested in your and Hanks' interaction with the way he looks between the both of you depending on who's talking and how closely he's watching you both.

"Why is she not allowed to curse?" Connor's eyebrows pinch together when he asks the question, looking over at Hank for an explanation. 

Hank looks taken aback by Connor's question, and he doesn't reply right away. He's probably trying to come up with something. 

"Because- uh, I said so. She's supposed to be the nice sweet one, so it's bad for business." 

Silence follows his statement with you looking at him with a deadpan expression and Connor taking on a much more _enlightened_ one.

"Oh! I see. So it's for the good of the investigation." Connor rationalizes, nodding his head along as if it makes perfect sense. You honestly can't tell if he's joking or not. 

Hank laughs again, "Yeah, that's right. For the good of the investigation." 

⇑ (Hank)

"Now hold on a damn minute!" You start to object, cut off when you get a disapproving look from both Hank _and_ Connor. 

Is this really what you're being reduced to now? A curse-less cop? 

Resigned to your fate, you just accept it and sigh in defeat. "Sure, okay. Whatever." 

The quiet spreads out like a thin sheet between all of you, the only sounds reaching your ears being passing cars, the rain hitting the top of the umbrella and cement, and that horrid music playing overhead.

Connor looks down at the table for a second before glances up at the two of you, randomly asking, "Is there anything either of you'd like to know about me?"

You have noticed how he never ceases to ask lots of questions about the both of you, but neither of you ever really ask very many questions about him in return. Yeah you've asked some things, but for the most part you keep your admiration to yourself.

You continue to sip at your drink and don't reply, so Hank speaks up, "Hell no." He pauses, furrowing his eyebrows for a moment and lifting a hand from his burger since he likes to gesture while he speaks, "Well, yeah... um, why did they make you look so goofy and give you that weird voice?" He asks that question so casually, as if he weren't insulting him. 

You glare at the greying Lieutenant and smack him in the arm. "Hank!"

Connor doesn't seem as phased by it as you though, which is a good thing.

Instead, he actually responds rather diplomatically. "Cyberlife androids are designed to work harmoniously with humans. Both my appearance and voice were specifically designed to facilitate my integration."

CyberLife certainly did its' job well, then, at least you think so.

Hank doesn't seem to agree since his sassy reply consists of only, "Well, they fucked up." 

Connors' eyebrows furrow inwards and he looks taken aback by Hank's words, but he doesn't say anything else.

You, however, are not going to stand for this-this Connor slander.

You lower your drink for a second and fire back "Hank, be fair now. I think Cyberlife did a wonderful job. He's a cutie just like you when you were younger." Oh god, you can't believe you just said that. But, in order to not look stupid, you stand your ground and take another sip of your drink.

Hanks' eyes narrow and he groans, over playing his disgust.

Meanwhile Connor looks both smug and surprised, though his tone only portrays the smugness. "See, Lieutenant?"

The moment is forgotten seconds later, though, when Connor clears his throat and decides to get straight to the point, "Maybe I should tell you what we know about deviants."

You nod your head, ready to finally get along with it, while Hank decides to sass Connor some more, "You read my mind. Proceed."

And then cue the boring as fuck monologuing once again.

Of course, you do want to know what you are up against, so you tune yourself in for now until the conversation gets too boring.

"We believe that a mutation occurs in the software of some androids, which can lead to them emulating human emotion." 

"In English, please." Hank drawls with a shake of his head, somehow not understanding that. 

Connor pauses and looks briefly frustrated before he reiterates his previous statement, "They don't really _feel_ emotions, they just get overwhelmed by irrational instructions," cue his pause for emphasis, "Which can lead to unpredictable behavior."

From a science standpoint it certainly makes sense. Going off of what you've seen so far, it's like once they reach their boiling point, everything floods over at once. The emotions they feel are _technically_ errors in their code, but these errors are derived from treatment especially cruel or unfair. From what you've seen so far, actual criminal cases involving deviants have everything to do with the abuses of their owners. Just because it's, by definition, an error doesn't make their feelings any less valuable or real.

Your spiraling thoughts are interrupted by a question from Hank that you definitely want the answer to, "You ever dealt with deviants before?"

Connor doesn't reply right away, his eyes taking on a faraway look to them while he seems to recall something.

His head dips down and to the side for a moment, and when he replies, his eyes glide over to Hank's face. "A few months back... a deviant was threatening to jump off the roof with a little girl. I... managed to save her."

Damn, that's impressive.

It must've been hard to pull that off, though, it may have been easier for him since he isn't human. Most deviants are definitely not quick to trust humans, and you don't blame them for that, so it's actually really good that they thought to bring him in. It's sad too, though, because it doesn't take a genius to guess what became of the deviant after Connor stopped him. 

Unfortunately for you, this line of thinking distracted you from the conversation going on right in front of you.

You shake your head a bit to dispel all distractions and listen in again.

Connor's talking about Hanks' achievements as a detective now, all of which are very impressive, but god it's all white noise right now. 

"Blabla bla bla, but adapting to human unpredictability is one of my features." And then, oh lord give you strength, Connor gives Hank a wink.

A wink that makes your heart stutter; that steals your breath away; that shocks you to your very core because he's just so god damn cute.

⇑ (Y/N)

You, unluckily enough, are also still sipping on your drink when this occurs. So, when you took in a sharp breath with the freaking straw in your mouth, you broke out into a coughing fit.

You reach up quickly and place the back of your hand against your mouth, coughing a lot because choking on soda fucking _hurts_ , clearing your throat a couple times.

When you finally look back up two pairs of eyes are on you. 

Hank looks at you with a mixture of confusion as to why the fuck you're choking, and sympathy because he knows choking on soda is, quite literally, the worst thing _ever_. Meanwhile Connor appears to be confused and worried rather than sympathetic.

"I would recommend not breathing in when you're in the middle of drinking something. It would be best for you to drink some water and clear your throat."

You wave off that last bit of advice, coughing a few more times before bringing the drink back up to your lips to drink from some more. Yeah, thats right. You're a bad bitch.

"May I ask what caused you to choke, Detective? I would like to prevent any unintentional choking in the future."

You feel your face heat up again.

Not only do you have no idea as to what the fuck he means by 'unintentional choking' but you know for a fact that you can't just say seeing him wink with that handsome face of his is enough to stop your heart for a damn second.

You literally have no clue what to you. You don't know what to say or how to react. The only thing you know for sure is that you _don't_ _know anything_.

"Ah, uh, well you see, er..." You don't even know _how_ to lie your way out of this. Your sudden coughing fit made no sense, and the excuses your mind is conjuring up make even less sense... and Connor probably has a built in lie detector anyways so there's no point. Therefore, you decide to go with the honest and watered down version of the truth. "I wasn't... expecting Connor to wink at you, um, Hank, all of the sudden... er, it threw me off guard..." After you finish your piece, you look away again, face no doubt flushed. 

You hear Hank groan knowingly, but Connor only straightens his tie and nods his head in understanding. 

"Well, I'll be sure to do it more often so you can get used to it then, Detective." He states, smiling at you all innocently.

⇑ (Y/N)

⇑ (Hank)

And what's worse is that he probably means it to be a simple innocent statement too, but for some reason your heart decides to pound just a bit faster. 

Gross. 

Connor pauses suddenly, his LED turning yellow while he rapidly blinks for a few beats.

"I just got a report of a suspected deviant. It's only a few blocks away...," he trails off momentarily, looking at you from the corner of his eye, "We should go have a look." his gaze snaps back to Hank after he says as such.

Instead of waiting for a response from either of you, he steps back from the table and nods to the two of you respectfully, "I'll let you two finish your meals. I'll be in the car if you need me."

Hank makes a face, one you know quite well from experience.

It's a pleasant face; an expression that betrays to you just how much Connor is growing on him. 

You watch Connor as he retreats back to the car, able to let himself in despite the car having been locked previously.

You decide not to think about that now, though, because Hank is suddenly talking once again. "He's... interesting. I get why you tolerate him."

That, of course, makes you smile.

The thought of Hank and Connor becoming friends makes you quite happy after all.

You and Hank finish your food rather quickly after that, and, without further ado, you both leave the table and return to the car to check out the tip. 

\---

⇑ (Y/N- Warm)

⇑ (Hank- Warm) 


	7. Stay Behind Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone leaving kudos! I appreciate every one of you.

The car ride to the pretty shitty apartment complex the three of you are going to investigate was pretty uneventful, to say the least. 

You sat in the back, much preferring the plentiful space for your legs, just watching the back of their heads with bored lazy eyes.

You're too tired for any of this bullshit, but that won't stop you from attempting to find the deviant. At least, assuming there's one in the first place - you're not exactly sure about the details of the case just yet. 

The area you guys are going to be investigating is in the upper floors. The 'way above the ground' upper floors to be exact.

You, Hank, and Connor all stand in the shabby elevator which is steadily going up, each creak and groan of the cables making you tense and grab onto the elevator support bar for dear life.

With how rickety and old this shitty place is, riding in the elevator is certainly one of the last things you want to do, but Hank insisted so you couldn't object.

"Y/N, calm down. You're making me nervous." Hank grumbles, placing his hand on your shoulder gently, "Just calm down, the elevator would never be able to run if it doesn't pass it's safety inspection." 

His words don't really make you feel any better, but you pretend that they do. 

"Y-Yeah, you're right. Thanks, Hank..." You mumble, offering him a shaky smile. 

That seems to make him happy judging by the slight upturn of his lips and the soft look in his eyes, so it's well worth it. 

Not long after do you guys all make it to the top, having run into no issues. 

You and Hank step out of the elevator as soon as it arrives at the proper floor, but when you don't hear Connor step out as well, you turn to see what's going on.

He's standing there in the elevator, completely still, and alone because you and Hank already exited. That's not even the weird part though, because his LED is flashing yellow, and his eyes are closed as if he's thinking deeply to himself.

You cock your head to the side a bit, silently wondering what's going on, meanwhile Hank takes on a much louder approach.

"Hey, Connor!"

Connors' eyes open upon hearing Hank's rough voice calling for him, and his LED returns to blue once again.

"You ran outta batteries or what?" He asks him irritably, a frown tugging at his lips like usual.

That makes you snicker, knowing fully well thats not how Androids work, especially since Hank seemed almost convinced that that's actually the reason.

Connor simply apologize's, though, "I'm sorry, I was making a report to CyberLife." He doesn't get out of the elevator, looking at the two of you with his usual perfect mask of neutrality.

Okay but that's fucking awesome.

"Woah, wait wait- you can do that with your mind?" You ask excitedly, realizing only after you say it that you probably sound like a dumb little kid in awe over something like toy dinosaurs or playing blocks. 

You look away sheepishly after that, clearing your throat as heat begins to creep up your neck.

"Ahem... n-never mind. Let's just go already..." You grumble quietly, turning out of viewing range

Hank watches you go before looking over to Connor again, raising an eyebrow. "Uh.. well, do you plan on staying in the elevator?" He asks, raising an eyebrow.

"No! I'm coming." He states defensively, making a face at Hank that further portrays his distaste.

You and Hank chose not to wait, opting to leave him behind in the elevator until he decides to follow after you.

You can't even hide your smile as you follow Hank down the narrow hallway, though you do manage to scrounge up enough attention to pay for the scene before you. 

The hallway is long and dark, dirty more than anything, with splotches of mold, dirt, and other things you're not too keen on learning the identity of. It smells dusty and vaguely damp from the holes in the foundation that allow rain in everywhere around you. 

Some doors are closed, one is off it's hinges, and another is doorless altogether. There are countless things littering the floor like papers, boxes, and some racks and containers tucked away in individual rooms as well as divots in the hall itself.

Your overview of the shitty apartment floor heeds no results or new information, though you have yet to survey all the rooms, and you feel your frustration steadily rising.

Hank asks about the reported 'suspicious person' seen entering the building, specifically if there's anything you know about him, but all Connor knows for sure is that your investigation is based around reports from the neighbors about strange noises.

Apparently, nobody is supposed to be living here (not a surprising fact since this place is so fucking disgusting), yet there were supposedly sightings of a man hiding an LED under his hat.

A troubling fact, but not enough to warrant an actual full on investigation.

"If we're gonna be going over every complaint then we're gonna need more officers." You sigh as you say it, mostly to yourself, and run a hand through your hair. 

Hank walks up to the door at the end of the hall on the lest, grumbling similarly to you about investigating noise complaints.

You find his complaining funny; that being one of the, strangely enough, more enduring things about him. He's right too, something you don't normally think where Hank and complaints are concerned. 

You nod your head to show him that you agree, eyes flittering around the hall.

"Hey, were you really making a report back there in the elevator? Just by closing your eyes?" Hank asks slowly, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. If you didn't know any better, you'd think that he might just be impressed. 

Connor walks towards the two of you, seemingly pleased that Hank is taking interest in him for once, and he nods. "Correct."

The greying Lieutenant is quiet for a moment, and when he replies you can just _tell_ that there is an underlying layer of interest hiding beneath the surface. "Shit... wish I could do that." 

You breathe a laugh and nod your head, planting your hands on your hips while you wait for someone to knock on the door already. 

Connor walks up and looks between you and Hank briefly, then he raises his fist and knocks on the door firmly. 

There is no response, the silence from before stretching out like a thick blanket between you. The silence is always the worst part when it comes to these things, because what follows is usually not very pleasant. 

Connor and Hank exchange a look but they don't speak to each other, rather, Hank just shrugs and looks at him expectantly.

The android sent by CyberLife proceeds to knock again, harder this time, while he calls out, "Anybody home?"

Still, there is no answer, so he follows up with, "Open up, Detroit Police!" 

There is a very brief pause, followed by a sudden crash from inside that causes Hank and Connor to give each other another look.

Hank jumps into action and pulls his gun out, looking at Connor with determination in his eyes. 

"Stay behind me." An order, something not to be refuted or questioned, especially in this instant. 

Connor steps away from the door right away, vocalizing his compliance with a simple, "Got it." Probably the most sincere sign of acquiescence that he's shown since you met him last night. 

You retrieve your weapon from it's holster, just like Hank, and aim it at the ground while Hank gets in front of the two of you. It's nothing new for you, he does this all the time with you, and it makes you smile since it seems that he's finally recognizing that Connor is more than just a replaceable machine. 

The brown-haired detective-droid steps behind Hank easily, pausing to turn his head so he can look down at you. He doesn't do anything for a second, just staring, and when he does move, he moves to stand in front of you like Hank did for him.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, but, before you can object or question him, Hank kicks in the door.

He walks in first with his gun raised and finger resting above the trigger, Connor still standing in front of you.

When you move to go around him, he steps into the doorway, blocking your path inside. It's a bit frustrating, especially since you're more experience _and_ you have a gun, but there really isn't anything you can do to get around him. He's heavier than you, stronger than you, taller than you, and clearly has no intention of getting out of your way until he's ready.

⇑ (Hank) 

As Connor moves further in the room you follow close behind, glancing back a couple times to make sure you guys aren't being flanked.

Resigned to your fate stuck behind Connor, you stray behind and double check each room to ensure that they're clear, which they are. 

Hank waits for the two of you at the last door at the end of the new hall, and, once you're both there, he rams his shoulder into it.

They door gives under the force of his shove, and he's immediately assaulted by a surplus of pigeons flooding into the hallway. 

Your arms fly up and over your head instinctively, shielding your hair and face from the onslaught of demon birds.

"What the fuck is this?!" Hank cries angrily, ducking to the side a bit to avoid their awaiting claws and frightened, sharp beaks. 

When you open up your eyes again, which you closed to prevent having them clawed out, Connor is much closer than he had been before. He's practically at your toes as he stands right there in front of you.

You look up at him with slightly wide eyes before peeking around his jacket at Hank who's raging about the pigeons.

You'll just have to ask Connor about this later, you suppose, because, for now, you guys have work to do.

You step around Connor, he doesn't step to the side to block you this time, and glance up at him again.

He's looking down at you already, his resting diplomatic mask of neutrality in its' usual spot, "The birds appeared to have messed up your hair, Detective. A ponytail would be most beneficial to avoid any future hair-related issues." He nods at you once, then heads into the room with you hot on his heels.

You make a face at him behind his back, though you don't speak, and settle for putting a cap on.

Hanks' raging because of all the birds draws a delighted giggle from you, one that earns a heated glare from the Lieutenant. 

Once you walk in you're hit with nostalgia at the terrible smell, it reminding you right away of the Carlos Ortiz case. Though, it's not a dead body smell, more so just a smell so bad that you have a sudden urge to throw yourself out the window.

Your eyes scan over the room carefully, searching for anything and everything that may give some hint as to were the runner went.

The firs thing you notice are the odd labyrinth looking symbols littering the disgusting walls in black, but, no matter how hard you stare at them, you can't make any sense of it. 

There are holes in the ceiling, no doubt the source of all the birds, and the place itself is a total mess.

A soft puff of breath escapes through your nose since your lips are pursed, frustration gripping your heart and squeezing with all its' worth. 

You walk over to one of the labyrinth-like drawings, noticing right away that it was drawn with permanent marker, and very neat with clean edges and straight lines. Lines and edges too neat for any human to draw (unless they had a ruler or something which you've seen no evidence of).

You reach up and touch it gently, some of the residue rubbing off onto your fingers. It has to be newer; that or the walls are just damp and don't allow the marker to dry.

Connor and Hank are talking about things they found around the room, including a hidden diary in the wall, the military jacket with the initials R.T. an obviously fake I.D. and so on, meanwhile all you've managed to 'find' are the obvious drawings on the wall.

Connor moves on to the next room right after. 

He's obviously able to observe everything much faster than you and Hank, that there is enough to make you feel some jealousy towards him, but good lord how is it fair that he's fast as fuck, too?

You decide to join Connor in the bathroom while said android looks at the sink which he said had an LED inside.

Hank steps in after you, and you can hear his breath hitch at the sight of all the writing on the left wall.

"Any idea what it means?" The police Lieutenant asks out loud, glancing down at your distracted form.

"rA9... written 2,471 times. It's also the same sign Ortiz's android wrote on the shower wall..." Connor muses with furrowed eyebrows, kneeling down on the floor to get a better look at the knocked over stool. 

You reach up and lightly rub at the side of your face like you usually do in trying moments, looking over all the writing a bit longer before you turn and leave the bathroom.

It's all so confusing. This rA9 stuff, the obsessive compulsive writing, the labyrinths - all of it. There's also the issue of the disappearing act that android somehow pulled off in the 20 seconds leading up to you guys entering this room. 

The pigeons didn't seem disturbed when you first entered the room, but there was definitely someone else here (even if they aren't here anymore). An LED in the sink and perfect writing. All signs point to an android having been here 

You notice that the closet has yet to be checked so you make your way over and try to peek inside.

The doors are shabby and old, but it's too dark inside for you to see if there's anything inside.

You slide open the doors slowly, and, at first, there's no movement, quickly followed by a sudden flash that scares the absolute fuck out of you.

You let out a weird, strangled sounding yelp, a mixture of shock and a bit of pain, as you lose your footing and crash to the ground.

The breath is knocked from you when you fall on your back, you now staring up at the ceiling with your eyes wide open.

Damn fucking pigeons. 

You miss Hank's yelling your name in a panic, since you're currently caught in a shocked daze. Of all the things you were expecting just then, more birds was not one of them. 

You decide to simply lay there for a second and regain your bearings, both Connor and Hank coming into view.

They lean over you, a worried and irritated look on Hanks' face, and a concerned one on Connors', but you have no intention of treating this issue seriously.

You half-grin up at the both of them and say in the most sarcastic voice you can muster up at the moment "Did I ever tell either of you that I hate birds?"

Hanks' worry transforms into relief that you're still okay enough to be a smart ass, though that irritation never leaves.

Connor shakes his head, though, replying non-verbally to your hypothetical question while reaching his hand down for you to grab to help you to your feet.

You don't hesitate in accepting the help and grab his hand in yours, allowing him to help hoist you back to your feet which he does quite easily. You're gonna have to get yourself from android muscles once this is all over cause that shit seems handy. 

"Sorry for the uh... distraction. Don't worry about me, kay?" You squeeze Connors' hand, which was still wrapped around your own after helping you up, gently while you tell him as such. And you really feel that way too. He doesn't need any extra stuff to take care of, be that you or something else. 

You let him go after getting your point across then turned and pat the sides of your face. "I'm gonna step outside of the room for a second, you guys keep doing your detective stuff." Your back is turned and you're halfway out the door before anyone else can say anything. 

For a time, you just stand outside the room, your eyes closed as you leaned your head back against the disgusting wall.

An uncontrollable and very sudden rush of guilt plunges through you, a million and 1 thoughts racing through your brain all at once. You feel like you're ruining the case just by being there, and a part of you wonders if, to some extent, you're subconsciously doing this shit. 

You're rooting for the deviants, you know this, Hank knows this, hell Connor probably knows this too, but you'd never do anything to purposely get in the way of the case... right? 

God, if Hank were to hear your thoughts right now, he'd probably punch you across the face - and you would deserve it too. Hell, you might just punch _yourself_ across the face if this keeps up. 

But you're a good detective, and you've never let personal biases get in the way of things like this before no matter how much you've felt one way or another. 

No, it has nothing to do with personal bias, you're just useless. 

That thought hits you like a bag of bricks, crushing your momentary assumptions of being a good cop, cracking your resolve and determination to make it through the rest of this investigation. 

You shake your head in an attempt to push away your negative thoughts (which were mostly likely caused by exhaustion) and bring your mind back to the case.

The guy seemed to have just disappeared out of no where, which made little sense to you considering there was no where for him to... go.

Your eyes snap open and another crash from inside catches your attention, the sound of someone grunting loudly following shortly after this crash.

A yell from Hank is the next thing you hear, then fast footsteps and another yell from Hank.

You run into the entrance with your gun drawn to see what's going on, but you don't even make it halfway down the hall before you're jumped by an unknown figure (most likely the suspect).

A record breaking-ly strong shove successfully moves you out of the way, more force exerted from them then from any human you've ever been pushed by, so you fly back and hit the wall, collapsing into a heap on the ground.

"S-Shit!" You gasp, sitting up quickly when you hear two more pairs of footsteps, one of them stopping abruptly.

Connor stands there looking at you as the deviant runs away, and you can tell what he's thinking before he even opens his mouth.

With a vague gesture in the direction of the deviant and a slightly stronger voice than you thought you'd be able to manage, you insist that Connor goes after him. "Don't worry about me! Go catch him!" 

An 'emotion' that you can't quite place flashes across Connors' face, but he thankfully doesn't argue and takes off down the hall again.

Hank curses some more, kneeling down next to you with furrowed eyebrows, scanning over you for any signs of injury or pain.

"Shit, how many times do you plan on getting knocked down today, kid?" His little jab makes you whine, but you don't reply and instead let him help you up.

"Common we need to get to the roof."

When you got back to your feet you grit your teeth, realizing right away that you twisted your ankle. It's not broken or even sprained from the feel of it, but gosh it doesn't feel very nice.

You stand up as straight as you can, figuring that if you pretend long enough then it'll go away faster. "L-Lets go." 

The strain of your effort sucks, but you let your face betray nothing as you follow Hank out to the roof.

The journey to the fells a lot longer than it actually is, and as soon as you get there you take a seat and watch Connor go. 

"When they said we'd be getting a new partner, I never expected they'd be such a badass." You joke, looking over at Hank with a small smile. 

Hanks' lack of expression, though, tells you that he's a bit too focused at the moment to acknowledge your jokes.

When Hank _does_ finally look at you, however, his expression is stern instead of humored, "I know you twisted your ankle. Keep your ass on that ground until we get the bastard, okay?"

You make a face and he realizes right away that you're going to argue, so he puts his hand up and shakes his head decisively.

Someone emerges from the corn field to your right suddenly, catching you and Hank off guard, but you manage to jump to your feet quick enough to follow after him despite the stab of pain in your foot.

Hank yells for him to stop, his hand going to his holster, and then the worst possible thing happens.

The android shoves Hank backwards and off of him, and Lieutenant Anderson drops from the side of the roof. 

It feels as if someone brought a vacuum to your lungs and stole all of the contents inside, leaving you breathless and gasping for air. 

"Hank!" You cry out, dropping your gun without a second thought as you rush over to the side of the roof and look over the ledge, dreading what you may see on the other side. 

When you see him hanging there by the tips of his fingers, not laying in a bloody heap on the stone floor beneath, though, you feel as if you can breathe again.

Your hands are trembling when you reach down to help him up, your hands closing around his bicep so you can pull him up. The heels of your shoes dig into the ground and you feel another spike of pain, but you keep pulling and manage to get his elbow up on the edge of the stone railing. 

Connor emerges out of seemingly nowhere, his arms reaching down to grab Hank as well to aid you in bringing him back up to safety. It's much easier with Connor there to help out. 

Once Hank is back on his feet, you let out a loud sigh of relief and try to blink away the tears swimming in your eyes, blurring your vision momentarily. You place a hand to your chest and let out a shaky breath.

⇑ (Y/N)

⇑ (Hank)

You place a shaking hand Connors' shoulder, as per your new habit and also to stabilize yourself, and wait for Hank to catch his breath and calm down.

Hank gets up from the floor slowly, hitting the ground once from frustration.

"Shit, oh shit! God fucking damnit, we had it!" He shouts, his tone betraying all the self-hate and anger at once. He uses his knee to boost himself up back to his feet, and glances up at you and Connor guiltily. 

Connor looks down at you for a second then back over to the ledge the deviant escaped from, "I should have been faster."

Just as you're about to open your mouth and tell him that is _not_ true, Hank beats you to it.

"You'd have caught it if it weren't for me...," he pauses and inhales deeply, "That's alright. We know what it looks like now, so we'll find it."

That certainly brings a smile to your face; it's Hanks' way of saying thank you without actually saying it. 

It catches you attention that Connor is rather still while you use him for stabilization, this fact filling you with gratitude (that as well as saving your partner from becoming a pancake).

Hank speaks up again on his way to exit the roof, "Uh... hey Connor."

You both turn, you studying his face and Connor studying his body language.

Hank looks sheepish for a moment, hesitant like there's something he wants to say but he can't quite get it out, but he never quite gets there. Instead he shakes his head and turns away again, "Nothing..." 

You can't help the bright, silly smile that takes over your face. That's probably the nicest confrontation you've ever witnessed between the two of them - though Hank didn't actually say thank you. You might as well do it for him. 

You crane your neck to look up at the brown-haired puppy man, gratitude seeping from your very being at this moment. "Connor, thank you... thank you so-so much for helping Hank. I..." You pause and allow your hand to drop from his shoulder, feeling a little silly all of a sudden because of how emotional you must seem. "Never mind. Just, thank you."

⇑ (Y/N)

He's looking down at you curiously, but there's a certain warmth in his expression, his eyes, that makes your heart thump erratically.

"You're welcome Detective." His acknowledgement is the first thing that he says, and the next surprises you just a little, "I noticed that you twisted your ankle after Rupert shoved you in the hallway. Please allow me to help you to the car." 

You, of course, don't really _want_ the help, but he was nice enough to offer so you might as well accept.

"It'll go away in, like, thirty minutes, but I guess I'll take your assistance."

He nods his approval and ducks downwards while grabbing your arm and placing it around his waist. He doesn't lift you up or anything like that, you're insistent on keeping your feet on the ground, so he settles for you holding onto him while he helps you off the roof.

"I understand you dislike help, Detective, but I simply cannot allow you to over exert yourself anymore. Perhaps you should take up self-care lessons, or light reading about keeping yourself healthy."

You face clearly shows your displeasure, as does your disagreeing groan, and when you glance up at him he sees as such.

You can't help your flustered face, and the thought of your own embarrassment causes you to hold onto his hip a bit tighter.

If Connor notices then he certainly does it show it, for he doesn't say anything for the rest of the journey back to the car.

Hank's already sitting in his car at the wheel, his expression unreadable. But if his white knuckled grip on the steering wheel is anything to go by, then you'd say something is troubling him.

His expression contorts to one of annoyance a the sight of you two, though you're not exactly sure what about this annoys him.

Connor lets you lean against the car as he opens the door for you, a reassuring smile one his face when he moves to help you inside.

"Y-You don't have to wait on me completely, I can handle getting in the car at the very least." You duck inside and get yourself buckled in, ignoring the look Hank throws at you from his spot in the front seat of the car. 

Connor closes the door for you despite your previous protesting and assurance that you're fine on your own, then get's in himself, also buckling up his belt.

A lot has happened in the last 30 minutes that you don't necessarily care to think about too much. From Hank almost meeting his maker on the roof to another deviant getting away, everything seems to be falling apart - but, somehow, also coming together just right. It's a weird state of being clueless but also more knowledgeable than before. 

You look around the car, out the windows and through the windshield, simply glad that the rain clouds have begun to dissolve in favor of a bright sky.

You leaned your head back and close your eyes, much like when you all arrived at Chicken Feed, fully intending to fall back asleep. 

Connors' voice from the front seat catches your attention, but you don't show that you're listening and instead keep your eyes closed.

"Lieutenant. I believe it would be wise to drop Detective L/N off at her home so she may rest. It would be preferable for her health."

Okay, you can't just sit back and let that one pass.

You open your eyes up and lean forward between the two seats, looking between them with big, pleading eyes, "Wait! I have work to do, I need to go to the station!" Your protest comes without any hesitation, but your begging has no affect on the hardened Lieutenant for he just inputs your address on into the GPS.

"Yeah, no. You're going home, and you're going to stay there. I'll tell fuckin Fowler that you had personal issues." His voice sounds condescending, but also parental at the same time, and it leaves no room for argument. 

So, again, you only give a sigh of defeat and nod your head slowly. Why argue when you can lie and just do work at home? 

"Fine." You huff, leaning back again with your arms crossed over your chest. "You're lucky I like you two."

And you do, they're great.

Yeah, they're definitely your boys. 

\---

⇑ (Y/N- Friend) 

⇑ (Hank- Friend)


	8. I Am Perfectly Capable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> S/N: Siblings name

Twenty minutes later Hank pulls in to the parking garage of your apartment complex, knowing exactly where to go.

Catching some z's to refresh yourself after 2 or 3 hours of work sounds pretty great at the moment, so once Hank and Connor are out of the way, you can do just that.

You open up the door to get out, your belt unbuckled already and feet out the door, but the sound of another car door opening gives you a pause.

You look up with furrowed eyebrows and sport Connor getting out as well, more than likely to help you, which makes you sigh.

Instead of protesting like usual, you decide not to say anything and just hurry up and get yourself out.

You ankle already feels 100 time's better, buuuut you don't think there would be any harm in letting him feel more useful after the failure today. He might as well be allowed to help. 

Or, that's what you tell yourself at least.

Hank rolls down his window while Connor reaches out to help you to your feet, seemingly pleased that you aren't fighting him this time.

"Connor, I want you to say here and make sure her ass gets to bed. Take a taxi if you gotta go anywhere though, because I've gotta date with some Black Lamb."

He doesn't give either of you a chance to say anything else after declaring this because he rolls up his window and speeds off, more than likely over the speed limit, without another word.

You shake your head with a slightly incredulous laugh, fishing through your pockets for your keys while Connor helps you up the steps to your apartment with his arm curled around your waist delicately. 

"Thank you, Connor, but you really don't have to do what Hank said. I can take care of myself."

Yeah, Connor is _not_ gonna listen to your deceitful words. He knows- that you know- that he knows- that you're only trying to get rid of him so you could get back to work. Hank may be convinced that you actually listen to him, but you're not gonna trick this android so easily. 

"I'm sorry detective, but not only did the Lieutenant give me orders to - how did he put it - 'make sure your ass gets' in bed,' but I too believe that you should be resting." 

Ah hell, flippin' smartass - treating you like a child who can't make proper decisions for itself. 

You know that you fucked up at the investigation, but you also know that you're capable of being a good detective. You wouldn't have been picked for the job if anyone thought otherwise.

It _had_ dawned on you that your lack of a good performance may be because of your health choices, but then, sleep is a waste of time when you could be going through cases and finding things you missed before.

You unlock the door to your apartment with a quick swipe of your card and allow Connor to haul you inside, noticing the way he looks around at everything with such curiosity.

Once you're inside, you remove your hand from around him and untangle his from around you, then walk over to the small kitchen which is connected to your living room.

"Thanks for the help and all, Connor, but you and Hank are worrying over nothing. I'm _fine._ " You put extra emphasis on the word 'fine' to portray just how fine you are- as if it actually makes a difference. 

When you turn, you notice the surprised expression on his face, which causes you to tilt your head and shoot him a questioning look.

"I've just noticed that you're walking perfectly normal. You didn't require my assistance after all."

Well shit.

You can feel your face begin to heat up again, so you turn your back towards him and try to just ignore the subject.

Truth is, it's nice to rely on someone every now and then, even if it's for something small like that and... if you're _actually_ being honest, you liked the way he held you. 

Of course, you can't say any of that, so you opt for a lie! "You see the thing is... er, your suit is... soft?" What the fuck did you just say? You mentally smack yourself over the head, and run a hand through your hair.

"Well, yes, my suit is tailored to be easy to move in, to be aesthetically pleasing, and comfortable as well."

That makes sense if you don't think about it much, but, more than anything, you're just glad he bought into your excuse even if he didn't necessarily believe it.

"I know I said I didn't want any help, but... thank you anyways Connor." You are, of course, hoping to throw him off guard enough for him to forget Hanks' orders.

After you say your piece, you waltz on over to your laptop ,which is connected to your department terminal, and open it up.

You type in the password and place your fingers comfortably over the keys, only to throw your hands back quickly when the lid is suddenly slammed shut by Connor, who leaves his hand on top of the lid, a glare pointed directly at you.

"This doesn't look like rest, Detective. Internet sources suggest withdrawing yourself from screens helps maintain minimal levels of stress, as well as a warm bath, small snacks, and a nap. I will go draw a bath for you right away." 

You don't have time to complain and tell him you don't wanna because he's already walking away towards where your bathroom is.

You don't even wanna know why he knows which room is which without having been here before, because if you do, you'll probably just get a headache.

The sound of running water from the other room reaches your ears, thus drawing a sigh of defeat from your lips. There's really no point in arguing anything anymore since everyone around you seems to already have plans for you.

You get up from your seat and make your way to your bedroom, and, once you're inside, you poke your head into the bathroom attached.

Connor is standing by the tub, his hand in the water and knee resting against the lip of the bath.

You assume that he's testing the temperature, but you decide not to inquire on it an settle for insisting that you're good on your own. "You don't have to do that Connor, were not working right now and you're not my maid."

He turns his head to look at you, not removing his hand still from the water, with a pleasant expression on his face when he responds. "But I would like to, Detective."

That there strikes you right in the soul; he's too sweet. And... he said he want's to do it, even though the other day he stated that androids can't want things. So maybe this is actually a step in the right direction. 

⇑ (Y/N)

"Alright, alright... Thank you again." You honestly can't keep yourself from thanking him constantly, it being the only words you really know these days.

Connor nods his head and returns to the task at hand, turning the water off once the bath is full.

"Massages and having someone else wash you hair are known to help stimulate the sensory cortex in the release of dopamine and serotonin as well, which act as anti-stress chemicals inside of the brain. I have downloaded multiple techniques for both, would you like to give it a try?"

You kinda just stand there awkwardly for a second, just processing his suggestions as your face heats steadily. "N-No that really won't be necessary Connor! I can, um, wash myself. Feel free to look around while I bathe though!" You pause after you say this and add rather hastily, "Not in here though! I mean- somewhere else." 

The situation just keeps getting increasingly more awkward for you as time draws on, but what makes it even worse is the fact that Connor just _stands_ there staring and has yet to respond.

You swallow heavily and run your hand through your hair nervously, giving him a shy smile after a moment of internal panicking, "Connor... everything... okay?" You ask slowly, glancing away briefly before looking up at his face again.

He seems to break out of his thoughts at the sound of your voice, an almost sheepish expression working its' way onto his face. "I'm sorry Detective, I just had a sudden thought. Enjoy your bath, I'll go look around as you suggested."

Instead of dwelling on the oddity of his behavior, you just smile at him, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze before ushering him out of the bathroom.

Once he's gone, you rub the back of your head with yours eyes still trained on the door for a few moments before undressing.

After you're undressed completely, you get in the warm water awaiting you in the bathtub. 

It's nice, the temperature almost perfect, and right away you can feel the stress washing away. 

You close your eyes, letting out a low groan of appreciation for the wonderfully warm water, and lean back comfortably.

It's not too warm nor too cold, just perfect.

You ball your hands up into fists and rub away at your eyes for a second, smiling to yourself since, for once, you have a moment to yourself filled with nothing but tranquility and relaxation.

You don't wanna take advantage of Connors' attentive nature, but good god you could get used to this. 

Time ticks by slowly while you're relaxing in the bath, just letting yourself soak after cleaning yourself up, but all good things do eventually come to an end.

Of course, the water begins to cool until it's completely cold, so you chose this time to get out and let the tub drain, wrapping yourself up in a nice fluffy towel. 

You quickly glance around the bathroom and note that you forgot to get yourself some clothes for the road, but that's not a big deal at all since your wardrobe is most definitely full of plenty comfortable clothes for a night inside.

You look in the mirror after a moment of your thoughts drifting away, the towel wrapped tightly around your chest so it'll stay in place without you holding it, and the sight that awaits you is... blurry. 

Upon first glance, the glass is foggy and wet with drips of condensation, but once you clear the steam away you can see yourself clearly. 

Your eyes are extremely tired, bags under your eyes the size of coins, and you also notice the involuntary droop of the corners of your lips, like you have a permanent frown. As a whole you don't look terrible, you've seen and even looked a lot worse, but it still sucks knowing you've been walking around looking so gloomy.

Simply staring at yourself in the mirror, though, is enough to motivate you to start sleeping a bit more, and the sucken look of your cheeks gives you the sudden urge to eat a good meal to bring back some of the color to your face.

You drag a damp hand down the side of your face gently, a habit you've taken on recently, and manage to finally tear your eyes away from your reflection.

Once this is over and done with, you leave the bathroom finally and walk straight out the door.

The air is cool and the carpet soft when you step out into your bedroom, and you, somehow, miss the android in the corner of your room observing the pictures on your wall.

You walk over to your closet and pull out your usual black pants and (color) button up, practically having a heart attack when Connor speaks up from the other end of the room, "Hello Detective. How was your bath?"

You turn so quickly you could've gotten whiplash, reaching up to grab at the towel around you defensively. "H-Holy shit! Connor I didn't realize you were still..." You trail off and look directly at him, unable to tear your gaze away in your shocked state.

Connor doesn't seem to get it at first, but you can see the exact moment when he does because of the realization that overcomes his mask of indifference.

"Oh, my apologies, Detective. I'll let you get dressed..."

You swear you detected a hint of embarrassment in his tone just then, as well as in his expression, but you don't get time to test your theory for he's already on his way out.

He closes the door hastily once he's out, causing you to let out another deep breath out of relief this time because he left so easily.

You trot on over to your dresser and pulled out some undergarments, a matching (color) bra and pair of underwear, and start to get dressed.

It doesn't take you long to clothe yourself, and, for once, you feel great. 

The ends of your button up shirt are tucked into your black pants, and you opted to pull on a pair of fluffy pink socks.

You don't usually change into proper lounge wear until you're sure that you won't be called in to work, which isn't usually until around 11 PM. So, until then, you're going to hang out in some on the go, comfortable work clothes. 

Pretty quickly do you get bored just standing around in your room, so you quietly open up the door and peer around before exiting.

Connor's in the kitchen with a bowl next to him and a cutting board and knife in front of him, though he isn't moving.

You tilt your head to the left and watch for a moment, and, when he doesn't move, you ask what he's up to, "Connor? Whatcha doing?" 

The carpeted floor of your apartment is crushed beneath your feet as you make you way over to him, leaving your footprints indented in the ground. 

You know for a fact that androids don't eat, minus Connors' evidence tasting function, so you come to the most logical conclusion. The food is for you.

You stand next to him for a moment and take in the set up in front of you, then lean over in front of him, a smile on your face as you tried to avoid being awkward after the scene in your room.

"I'm preparing a healthy snack for you so your rest can be more comfortable. Sleeping with an empty stomach isn't suggested in any of my sources."

Well how sweet. Hank really did a number on him, didn't he?

Instead of voicing these thoughts, you nod your head and back up out of his way again.

"Ok, thank you Connor. But you don't have to, I can take care of myself." You've got no clue as to how many times you've said that today, but, even with all the times you've insisted that you're fine and perfectly capable, still nobody seems to get it.

Hell, you even got a text from Gavin earlier asking if you're alright. That guy's usually a douche, so you must've looked totally fucked up.

"You say that a lot Detective, but from my observations it appears to be completely untrue." 

That frustrates you quite a bit even though you know it's true. Why can't everyone just mind their own business and leave you be? It's not like you're on the brink of your capabilities yet, and you most likely won't get to the point for another few weeks. They should just let you work, let you do your _job_ , and stay the hell out of it. 

You take a look at the clock on your wall, it reading 6:45 P.M., so it's about time for you to eat anyways. This fact is the only thing that prompts your acceptance of the bowl of cut up fruit he hands you.

Once you've got the bowl in your possession you head over to the table and take a seat, pushing out the chair diagonal to yours to leave him the option of taking a seat.

Luckily Connor seems to actually get it, because he walks over without a word and sits down, his eyes on you the whole time. 

Connor speaks up first. "Detective, may I ask you some personal questions?" 

Here we are with the questions again. 

Your lips quirk up into a small smile, and you nod your consent. "Of course, go for it." 

"I took a look around while you were in the bath and noticed that you seem live very simply, I suppose minimalistic, is there any particular reason why?" 

He noticed all that in the 20 minutes you were bathing? 

"Well, I'm either out all the time or working, so I guess there just isn't too much of a reason for me to personalize all that much." That's mostly true, but to be honest, you don't really _know_ why. It's just how you are. 

The detective-droid looks troubled for a moment, though he doesn't speak on it, and accepts the answer in favor of asking another question. "I know you told me before that you're not very close with your family, but it appears that you have quite a few pictures of them up. Is it them distancing from you?" 

Weird way to start, but okay.

You take a deep breath and nod your head shallowly, replying with a simple, curt, "Y-Yeah... it is." 

"I see." He doesn't mention it again, thank god for that, and goes on to something else. "There are a lot of photos of you and the Lieutenant as well. How long have you two been partners?" 

Of course, he already knows this information, but this question is a wonderful gateway to more information about your relationship with him.

"Me and Hank? Gosh, it's been, what, 2 years now? I remember when I was first assigned as his partner he was so mean." You pause as a fond smile works it's way upon your lips, brightening your usually glum face, "On our first case together he called me a worthless detective, screamed at me for 2 whole minutes for stepping in some evidence on accident. Lord, he was so mad at me." The memory makes you laugh, yours eyes faraway as you recall this. 

"He... screamed at you? For being a worthless detective?" His LED is spinning yellow while he asks this, looking thoroughly lost. 

Well, gee, when he says it like that it sounds bad. 

"Er, yeah. It's not as bad as it sounds. He was still getting over-" You cut yourself off sharply and shake your head, changing the course of the conversation quickly, "He was going through a lot, and for a while I hated him because I didn't know..."

"How did you become friends, then? You two are very close." He appears to be on the edge of his seat here, and it makes your heart jump at how cute he is. 

"We were sent out to investigate a series of strange noises at a house in downtown Detroit. Hank and I drove together and he was rambling on and on about how he wished I was out of his hair already since I only ever screwed up his crime scenes, things like that, and I was feeling pretty awful about myself, but then I remembered what Captain Fowler told me about... what happened to him, so I just smiled and told him that I was happy to work with him even if he didn't like me." 

"And then he started to like you after that?" 

"Oh no, not at all. He just didn't say anything else." The look of horror on Connor's face makes you laugh, but you continue with the story regardless, "Anyway, Hank sent me to go knock on the door of the house since noise complaints is something rookie cops are for, and when I knocked a real nervous looking guy popped his head out, looking at me like he'd just done something awful. So I asked if I could go inside and he totally freaked. He pulled out a gun and aimed it straight at me, telling me to go away, and, of course, Hank comes out of the car and starts yelling at the man to drop it, all that. The guy pointed the gun at Hank with his finger was on the trigger, so I tried to grab it and then-" It's hard to think about sometimes, knowing how close you'd been to dying if you hadn't been wearing the vest, but you push on and finish the story regardless. "He shot me in the chest."

"You got shot after the original incident?" You nod. "And this is how Hank started to like you?" Another nod. "Please elaborate." 

His confusion is adorable. 

"Well, after he shot me Hank shot him back of course, and then as I lay there, not dying, he took me into his arms and-and started crying. He asked why I did that, why I tried to stop that guy from shooting him, and for the first time, I saw that man that everyone kept insisting that he was. He started... apologizing. Over and over again for what he said to me in the car, for calling me worthless and saying all of those horrible things." You stop after that, reaching up subconsciously tug at your hair. 

"You saved him..." 

"Yeah, I guess. I was wearing a bullet proof vest, but it's the thought that counts. After that he was way nicer to me, and then I guess we just became really close after." 

"That's a lot to go through to simply become friends." He observes, his eyebrows knitting together. 

"Don't think about it too hard, you'll hurt yourself." You joke, dropping you hands back down on the table. "It really wasn't a big deal, but he really thought I was going to die. Wouldn't listen to me trying to tell him I had the vest." 

"I see..." 

"Hank is a good man, Connor. I know he's rough around the edges and can be really mean, but he cares in his own way." Defending Hank's honor is something you've become use to in recent years, and you don't mind doing it here too. 

Connor nods his head in understanding, smiling at you slightly, "I understand." 

The two of you fall into silence, so you take this moment to begin eating that yummy fruit he prepared you. 

"Can I ask you something else?" He seems hesitant almost when he asks, but you won't deny him answers. 

"Yeah." 

This time he gets right into it. "You have a few problem solving awards in one of your cabinets, it's very impressive." Okay, this one is a statement, but a very flattering statement, so you let it pass. He continues, "I also noticed that you have two Purple Hearts. You've been shot once and stabbed another time, but both times you somehow managed to complete your mission- job. What drives you to be such a devout Detective when you're still refused the title of Lieutenant from your superiors?"

Wow, okay that's a lot. How he knows about your denial of being a Lieutenant, you don't know. 

"My (brother/sister). What-what happened to them, that is."

The android sent by CyberLife cocks his head to the side and finally dares to ask, "What happened to S/N?" 

His words are like a punch to the gut, an arrow to the heart, and you find that you can't hold his gaze. 

You look down at the table sharply and stress at your bottom lip with your teeth, thinking it over for a moment before finally trying to speak, "They-" You cut yourself off and stare down at the bowl of fruit intently, eyebrows furrowed inward while you try to string the words together. 

You don't realize that your hands are clenched into fists on the table until a larger hand engulfs your own, pressing against it comfortingly and successfully bringing you down from your stupor. 

"You don't have to answer, Detective. Forgive me for asking such a personal question." 

A sigh of relief escapes you before you can stop it, but you don't even care for once. 

"Don't say sorry, it's alright." There's a moment of silence, but you break it by adding, "Maybe I'll tell you some other time." 

He seems to think it over for a second before he nods his understanding, "Alright. May I ask you one more question?"

"Oh, yeah that's fine." It is- or at least, it will be if this one isn't as... touchy.

"Regarding those awards and Purple Hearts I mentioned earlier..." The brown-eyed pauses before pushing forward, "They are very formidable decorations, why do you not put them on display?" 

Your first instinct is to feel flattered. A super high-tech android telling you that you're impressive? Hell yeah. But no matter how impressive it might _seem_ you aren't all that, especially not compared to Hank or anyone else in the station.

Instead of voicing your thoughts out loud you shrug and eat some more of the fruit in the bowl. "I guess they're kinda okay-" you we're stopped by Connor holding up his hand, the one that had been holding yours, for he wan't finished speaking apparently.

"I retract my earlier question. Instead, I would like to ask why you aren't proud of your achievements." 

Ah hell, you should've guessed he'd ask a question like that.

"Well I... they aren't all that great. Getting injured in the line of duty isn't something for me to celebrate... especially since it just reminds me how useless I used to be... and still can be. I don't contribute much, so why celebrate something someone else could do just as easily?" You don't mean be so self deprecating, but this is how you feel. Comparing your achievements to others is something you just can't help but to do, you've always been like this.

But based on the less than pleased expression on Connors' face, you can tell that he disagrees with your sentiments.

"Well, in any case. I believe you are a wonderful detective, and comparing your successes to others will only damage your mental health." He nods his head as he speaks like he's agreeing with himself. Again though, he he's a super advanced robot cop so maybe his word means more than you originally thought.

"Ah... well. Thank you Connor. Thats really sweet of you to say actually."

You can't help but feel flattered regardless of all the uncertainties you have about your work ethic.

"Detective... I'm guessing your insecurities around your job are the reason you work much harder than you need to... but I assure you, if you were a bad detective then Lieutenant Anderson most definitely wouldn't like you as much as he does."

Yeah, that _does_ sound about right, but his reassurance isn't going to cure your problems with your job over night, though it does help.

⇑ (Y/N)

"You know, Connor, you're really sweet." Your head had previously been dipped down, but when you announce this you lift your head back up with a bright and happy smile present on your face. "I really appreciate everything you've done for me, so... I promise to do my best for you and Hank!"

You aren't quite sure where your sudden rush of confidence came from just now, but it feels good to be self-assured for once.

Before he can reply, Connors' LED turns yellow, and he does that blinky thing from earlier when he received notice about deviant activity.

He looks back at you again a moment after, before standing up suddenly which gets you to stand up as well.

"I've just received word that there has been another homicide. I will go retrieve Lieutenant Anderson. Head to the Eden Club and arrive before 8:30." His sudden diplomatic and demanding tone makes you pout a bit, but you won't say no when there's a case to do.

"Alright. I can give you money for a taxi, Connor." You reach for your wallet as you volunteer this, but he shakes his head and grabs your wrist gently.

"There is no need. I have access to CyberLife funds, so I can use those."

Well that certainly sounds better then spending your own money. 

You nod as a simple, wordless reply and walk him to your front door, mind clouded with a million different thoughts.

"Okay. Um, Hank is probably drunk or something so go easy on him, okay? I'll see you guys there."

You've never been to the Eden Club before.

All you really know about it is that people go there to have sex with androids - which is probably all you needed to know about actually.

Connor opens up the front door, a cold gust of wind smacking you in the face and immediately stealing the warmth of your nice, cozy apartment.

You shiver upon contact with the wind, noticing Connor looking down at you again.

You give him a sweet smile, then stand up on your toes and peck his cheek delicately. 

Then you promptly close the door because you're horrified with yourself. 

You're so used to jumping up on your toes to peck Hank's cheek that, by pure muscle memory, you did it to Connor just now (at least that's how you rationalize it in your mind now that you're alone) 

However, this knee jerk, panicky reaction causes you to miss both the surprise, and small upwards quirk of his lips as he reaches up to touch the spot your lips just occupied moments before. 

\---

\- (Y/N- Friend)

\- (Hank- Friend)


	9. It Just Isn't Fair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was going through and re-watching my favorite YouTubers play the game, and, after finishing PewDiePie's play through, I went back to watch Kubz Scouts play it for the second time this week because I wanted to see a happy ending.  
> I am literally trash (trash thirsty for Kudos)  
> Also, this chapter is really long and dark- like way darker than it was when I first posted it. So be warned.

You arrived at the Eden Club for your investigation at 8:10 P.M. sharp, 20 minutes before the time Connor warned you to be there by. 

Actually, you got there a bit later than you wanted to initially, but you figure that Connor and Hank won't arrive for another ten minutes themselves anyways. Especially after Hank told you about having a 'date with some Black Lamb.'

You're still rather embarrassed about your lack of self control when you gave Connor that kiss on the cheek earlier, but at the same time... how did the older generation say, YOLO bitches.

That thought alone is enough to make you cringe internally, though Hank would probably laugh if he could hear your thoughts now. 

You shake those ridiculous thoughts from your head as soon as they appear and focused on the infamous sex club in front of you, feeling uncomfortable already.

Fuck, you thought giving Connor that friendly kiss was awkward, but the fact that you're about to enter a sex club is so much more mortifying. Especially since it's _an_ _android_ sex club, and you just so happen to not only have an android partner, but a fucking cute as hell android partner.

Why that has anything to do with it, you don't know, but it correlates somehow... you suppose. 

You rub the back of your head and decide to just stand outside and wait for Hank and Connor, not exactly interested in entering on your own since you might actually freak the fuck out.

It takes maybe another seven minutes before you see Hanks' car pulling up to the club, and you immediately feel relief that you no longer have to awkwardly stand there and receive judging stares from people passing by.

Honestly, you aren't sure how much staring and erotic music you can take before blowing up. 

You practically skip over to his car when it pulls up, thankful that you aren't going to have to stand around shyly anymore. 

You tilt your head when you see Connor in the drivers seat, but it doesn't take a genius to guess that Hank's not sober enough to drive. From the look of said man, your original assessment is correct.

That makes you sigh, knowing that he's still drinking himself to death every god damn night, but you go ahead and open Hanks' door for him, expelling these thoughts.

"Um, hey Hank... you alright?" You ask quietly, hoping not to irritate the headache he no doubt has.

You step out of the way so he can get out of the car, reaching down to grab his arm lightly and help him to his feet - though it seems he doesn't need the help since he shakes you off and grumbles about being able to walk on his own. 

At first he says nothing, only groaning while he reaches up to massage his temples, but when he does reply it sounds forced and pained. "Yeah, great. Other than feeling like someone's playing with a drill inside of my head."

His dry response, while not intended to be funny, makes you chuckle nonetheless despite your sympathy towards him. 

You reach into your jacket pocket and pat around for a second, and, when your fingers brush against what you're looking for, you pull some painkillers out. Before you left your house, you were sure to stuff some in your pocket since you were more than 100% certain that Hank would be sobering up once he arrived at the scene. 

And, lo and behold, you were right. 

A sympathetic smile makes its' way onto your face when you offer the medicine up to him, the pills laying in the palm of your outstretched hand.

"I brought these, figured you'd be feeling like shit when you got here."

He accepts it gratefully, swallowing down the pills without a second thought.

"Thanks, kid."

Connor's already standing next to you and Hank, watching the two of you curiously with the keys to Hank's car clutched in his hand.

You flash him a quick smile before turning on your heel and following Hank, who has already started walking to the entrance and up to the purple sliding doors of the club.

You've never been inside of a place like this before, but the headache inducing purples and pinks are enough to drive you crazy right off the bat. The flashing images of female and male androids posing provocatively and scantily dressed only further your discomfort, but you choose to say nothing on the matter. 

You look around uncomfortably for a second, biting at you lip while Connor and Hank exchanged a few words that you don't have any particular interest in. You guys pass the yellow holographic police tape, and you feel increasingly more nervous as you approach the sliding doors.

The whole concept of the club makes you uneasy, and, upon passing through the sliding doors, these feelings are reinforced tenfold.

The automatic doors in front of the three of you glide open once you're within rage, and you're immediately greeted by barely clothed androids trapped in these weird tube-pod things. There are three men and three women of different ethnicities, two women to the left with one man in the middle and vice versa on the other side.

To say that the sight is disturbing would be an understatement. How can any one come in and be _turned on,_ staring at these humanoid androids dancing in weird tubes, waiting to be _rented_ like fucking _cars?_

You start to tug at the ends of your hair while looking away shyly, because Jesus man, they're almost _nude_.

Hank scoffs upon noticing your timid and bashful behavior, but instead of reassuring you he reaches up and covers your eyes with his hand.

"Look away, Y/N, your virgin eyes shouldn't be tainted." He's very obviously joking, using some of his odd Millennial jokes, but even though he's just kidding around, you still pout.

He removes his hand seconds later, chuckling at your expense to himself.

You shoot him a glare, countenance sour and bitter because of the sheer _audacity_ of this man, and are about to bite back with a sassy retort when, suddenly, your vision is covered by another hand.

"I can cover her eyes for you, Lieutenant. My arms don't get tired likes yours do."

⇑ (Hank)

You're assuming Connor doesn't particularly understand that Hank is just teasing, but come on how can he not?

"I-I'm an adult! You two better stop treating me like a little kid or else I'll kick your asses!" The slight whine to your tone and clear embarrassment all over your face don't really help your case. 

Hank is slowly losing his shit off to the right, laughing hysterically as Connor holds his hand in front of your eyes, shielding you from the sin.

"I don't understand what's so funny, Lieutenant." Connor states from above you. Though you can't see his expression, judging from his tone, he's probably looking really smug.

You side step in an attempt to escape his large hand hiding everything in front of you, but he only steps with you keep his hand in front of your face.

"Ugh, Hank tell him to stop!" You certainly don't think it's funny anymore, but Hank just keeps on laughing.

"Alright, alright. Good man, Connor, keeping my girl safe from this shit." The humor in his voice makes your eye twitch and your nose wrinkle in distaste, "Let's leave her alone for now, otherwise she might flip you over her shoulder." 

Oh, good idea. You didn't think to do that. 

Your vision finally returns to you when Connor allows his hand to drop from your eyes and return at his side.

As soon as you can see again, you direct an irritated glare on Hank first, and as soon as you look over at Connor and see a very smug and amused look on his face, you realize that he was in on it. The smug bastards.

You cross your arms over your chest and turn away from them, hissing none too happily "You're both a bunch of children. Don't we have work to do?" If you were allowed to kick their asses you surely would, but this isn't exactly the best setting for that.

Hank drops his heavy hand on your shoulder, shaking you lightly once in contact with you, "You're being too serious, Y/N. Besides, you're way too coy for this shit, just look at ya!"

As annoying as it is, it's true. 

Of course, you'll never admit that fact. 

"Whatever. Let's just go you dorks." 

Without any more delay, the three of you head through the second set of doors, and when they open up you're met with the sight of more underdressed androids in pods, as well as a few dancing on poles in the middle of the room.

Yuck. 

Your eyes are covered again by Connors hand, and, while you're glad that you don't have to look at the awkward scene in front of you, you still reach up and grab his arm to try and pull it back.

"Stoooooppppppp." You whine your discontent out childishly, your attempts to pull his arm down proving to be futile. "You guys are such bullies."

His hand is gone seconds later, and, when you look up at him, his expression holds the same smug smile and humor.

You huff angrily and cross your arms over your chest. Unfortunately for your resolve, you can't help the smile that spreads across your face after a few seconds, his joy is just too freaking contagious.

Collins is standing outside the room of the crime with his usual virtual notepad, so you and your boys all head over to him for the debrief.

Hank asks him something, Collins responds with something else, bla bla just more of the useless crap that offers up no real benefit to you. One thing that _does_ catch your attention, however, is the mention of Gavin being in there already.

That fact draws an audible sigh from your lips, because good god you do not want your night to be ruined by him acting a fool, regardless of him worrying about you earlier. 

One nice deed doesn't smooth over all the rest. 

Hank seems to share your opinion judging by the not so positive words that leave his mouth seconds later, "Oh, great! A dead body and an asshole, just what I needed tonight..." He trails off a bit, then turns and steps into the room, the doors sliding open as soon as he gets close. 

Connor doesn't stand in your way this time around, so you walk in right after Hank with Connor trailing behind the both of you.

Your first observations showed you a gross looking dead man in the bed with a red satin-y blanket thrown over him, a powered down female android to the right, Chris to the far left, and Detective Prick just to the side of the bed.

Gavin turns his head upon hearing the door slide open, a displeased and condescending, smirk on his face as he drawled with no small amount of hostility, "Lieutenant Anderson and his pets... the fuck are you guys doing here?" His venomous words piss you off, but you bite your tongue instead of jabbing back at him angrily.

Hank only rolls his eyes and looks over at the female android sprawled out on the ground, so Connor speaks up instead. "We've been assigned to all cases involving androids." 

Connors' matter of fact response seems to irritate Gavin, but instead of retorting with anger like he always does, he just crosses his arms over his chest and sneers back, "Oh, yeah? Well, you're wasting your time. Just some pervert who, uh, got more action than he can handle." He laughed to himself, causing you to scrunch your nose up distastefully.

"Pig..." You don't say it loudly, just loud enough for those near you to hear, while Connor says nothing.

Hank finally acknowledges him after Gavin explains the scene, his irritation lying dormant in his voice. "We'll have a look anyways, if you don't mind." Hank makes a face, you, of course, can't blame him for his disgust.

This time it's Gavin who rolls his eyes as a response, walking past Hank and the rest of you. He pauses next to you after telling Chris to follow him, grabbing your upper arm carefully, "You never answered my text message." 

For once, you think you may actually see a hint of concern in those uncaring eyes of his. 

You glance away uncomfortably and try to pull your arm from his grip, mumbling so only he can hear you, "I'm fine, Gavin. Thank you for your concern, but I don't need it." 

Gavin doesn't release you for a long moment, just looking down at you with furrowed eyebrows before he puffs out an annoyed breath and lets you go. "Right, whatever. Just shoot me a message if you need something." 

Ha, fat chance. 

"Come on, Chris. It's uh, starting to smell of booze in here."

God, he really can't just leave things off on a nice note, can he? 

You turn your head and watch him walk out, a sharp glare directed as his back the entire time.

Why does he always have to have the last fucking word?

Gavin bumps Connors' shoulder roughly on his way out, though it seems like Detective Reed is more affected by it than Connor himself who barely moved.

Chris gives Hank an almost apologetic look, dipping his head down respectfully with a quick nod, "Good night Lieutenant." And then he's gone too. 

Hank doesn't say anything about Gavin's comment, only gazing around the room quietly, so you go on ahead and gently pat Hanks' shoulder.

The Lieutenant looks down at you after a moment, confusion knitting his brows together and pressing his lips into a thin line, "What were the two of you whispering about just now?" 

"It was nothing, Hank." He looks at you distrustingly and expectantly, not accepting that as a proper response. "No, really. He was just asking if I was alright cause I guess I looked awful this morning. 

Your response seems to take Hank for surprise, but you kinda just wanna drop it so you drop your hand from his shoulder in favor of stepping up to the body of the female android.

A sorrowful expression makes its' way onto your face at the state of her, a painful throb hurting your heart when you get a proper look at her countenance. 

She looks so... frightened damaged and beaten. Her nose has blue blood dripping from it, staining her pretty face, and her eyes are wide open, filled with a powerful emotion you can only describe as horror.

She comes to this world with no shred of dignity or identity of her own, and she leaves it just the same way; half-naked, bloodied, and humiliated. 

Nobody deserves this, not even an android with no function other than to please the pigs who come here. 

Hank stands near the bed with his arms crossed, his signature stance, while Connor approaches the 'victim' and crouches down to observe him more clearly.

Connor only stays there for a few moments, before he stands up straight again, glancing at Hank for a moment.

"He didn't die of a heart attack." That's all he says as his opener, causing you to look back, a bit surprised, "He was strangled."

You sigh, turning back to the girl on the floor to see if there are any signs of her being the killer on her hands.

Hank responds almost immediately, "Yeah, I saw the bruising on his neck... Doesn't prove anything though. Could've been rough play."

Your face scrunches up in disgust again, that thought not having occurred to you. 

You hear Connors' light footsteps approach you to your left, so you scoot over a few inches and turn your head to look up at him.

"She's pretty beat up..." That's all you can bring yourself to say at the moment, mainly because you feel horrible about this whole situation.

Connor crouches down again, this time next to you, observing the sex android with his usual inquisitive expression.

After a moment, Connor reaches down and places two of his fingers to the blue blood staining her face, then he lifts them up to 'taste' the evidence.

You physically cringed a bit from the act itself, though it _is_ still interesting that he can do that.

"Woah! Hey! Hey! Hey! Argh, Connor, you're so disgusting..." Hank's reaction makes you turn back to look at him, your lips quirking upwards since it _is_ pretty funny.

Connor doesn't respond; instead he just looks down at his fingers while his LED spins and blinks yellow (showing you that he's thinking).

"Ugh... think I'm gonna puke again."

This time you can't help but to laugh, turning back to the girl you're huddled in front of.

After he's finished analyzing the blue blood, Connor reaches down and presses his hand to her blank LED, his hand turning porcelain white as his synthetic skin disappears. You never were quite sure why their skin does that.

You're silent while he observes her, your eyebrows knitted together while you attempt to figure it out wordlessly.

Hank asks about accessing the girls memory, that making you wince to yourself since that's something you very much _don't_ wanna see.

Connor nods a bit, grabbing her arm with gentle hands, "I can try..."

He mentions that he needs to reactivate 'it' in order to access her memory, the 'it' frustrating you like it always does.

They kept talking back and fourth, but you find that you can't focus on their words when all of your attention is captured solely by Connors actions.

He places his hand on her stomach, both his hand and her stomach turning white upon contact, and you see the outlines of some sort of removable plate now that the skin is removed. Connor then opens up the little compartment and reattaches two wires which seemed to have disconnected during the struggle with the dead man. 

As soon as they're connected back together, she gasps and shoots up into a sitting position, thus causing Connor removing his hands quickly.

She takes one look at Connor before crawling away quickly, your heart dropping at the mannerisms she's displaying. 

The horrified 'Traci' presses her back to the wall, looking between Hank and Connor with a wild fear in her eyes.

You've seen this kind of thing before from female and male victims of sexual crimes back in the precinct, and it breaks your heart.

Back before you were transferred to homicide with Hank, you had primarily handled cases involving sex crimes, child and elder abuse, things of that sort. You were damn good at that job too, but there's only so much one person can handle, especially in that line of work. You've heard and seen it all, and you're only 23 and a half.

You'd seen that very expression on men and women alike, child and adult, hell, you've even had that expression after some particularly hard cases. 

It's a look that you could only ever describe as devastation. Devastation so great, so powerful, that it causes the wearer to just... lose it. All they know if fear, all they feel is contempt for themselves and those who put them in this position, all they're told is that this is the way things are and there's no changing it.

You approach her slowly with your hands raised to show you mean no harm, and Connor does the same.

"H-Hey, hey. Sweetheart look at me." Your voice is soft, you realized right away that they need a woman's touch to keep her comfortable. 

Her gaze slides over to you after a moment, that 'deer caught in headlights' expression not disappearing from her face just yet. 

"There, there we go... don't be afraid." You offer the smallest of smiles, hoping that it appears reassuring, when you add, "You're safe now, I'm gonna keep you safe. But we need to ask you a few questions... "

She physically relaxes upon your assurance that you'll protect her, so you take that as an invitation to sit there next to her to keep her at ease.

She looks back over to Connor who has since crouched down in front of her again.

"You were damaged, and I reactivated you. Everything is alright."

She doesn't even hesitate in asking a question, her voice coming out softly, "Is he...is he dead?" She glances back over to you after looking at the dead body on the bed, but you just smile sadly.

Connor doesn't answer her question, though when he asks his own he seems to become more urgent. "Tell me what happened." 

Her voice stumbles as she speaks, physically shuddering while she recounts what happened. "He started...hitting me... again and again..." She looks at you again when she pauses, and you reached out and gently placed your hand on hers.

"It's okay..."

She looks back to Connor again, "I begged him to stop, but he wouldn't..."

The girl lets out a frightened little breath when she finishes her explanation, and Connor continues when she stops. "Did you kill him?"

God you hope not

"No... no it wasn't me!"

You squeeze her hand gently and look at Connor.

"Were you alone in the room? Was there anyone else with you?" His voice is steadily raising and becoming more frantic, like he knows something you don't.

The Traci has tears in her eyes at this point, but she nod her head a bit instead of letting the fear consume her. "He wanted to play with two girls...," tears started to fall from her eyes, "That's what he said, there were two of us." Her voice trembles so you scoot a bit closer but don't touch her any more than just her hand.

She glances at you, then back at Connor once again.

"What model was the other android? Did it look like you?"

She is quiet for several moments, seeming to process his question, and then she goes completely still. Her rapid breathing halts and her shivering ceases, and there is nothing. 

Your eyes snap up to her face, your eyes wide. with shock, and it feels as if all the breath has been stolen from your lungs.

Connor looks down for a moment with frustration in his eyes, then back at her as he begins to get up.

But you can't move.

Your gaze is stuck on her face, the unshed tears swimming in her far away and glassy eyes. 

For a moment you feel as if you can't breathe, as if some unknown force has encased your heart in a fist and begun squeezing it for everything it's worth. The silence is deafening, roaring through your ears which have begun to ring. 

It's not... _fair_.

She didn't _deserve_ this.

No one does. _No one._

None of them deserve to be sold as a slave, hurt and hit when they realize that they're more than their fucking program. None of them deserve to get beaten, and then thrown to the side when they've finally had enough. 

You don't even realize that your hand is still covering her own; or that your eyes have yet to stray from her face; or that you're just slightly trembling with small tears in your own eyes; or that Hank has been calling your name; or that Connor is staring at the two of you with confusion but also sympathy.

You snap out of your stupor the fourth time Hank calls your name, your head turning so fast you could've gotten whiplash.

"W-What?" Your voice comes out so soft, so sad, and the stammer portrays just how vulnerable you're feeling at the moment. You don't realize these things, but even If you did you wouldn't say anything about it.

You know that look on Hanks' face; he realized that you're upset, that you're spiraling, and it worries him.

"Are you-"

You cut him off before he can even ask. "I'm fine. Don't fucking look at me like that." Your voice is harsh this time, angry and seething with emotion when you snap at him with your sharp words.

You didn't mean to snap at him, but you're _fine_.

More than anything, you don't want that look of pity trained on you, because you weren't the one violated and beaten to death in a sex club with no choice in the matter. 

You're furious, very _very_ furious, but you try to keep your face stone cold and blank as you remove your hand from hers and stand up straight.

You don't meet either of their gazes, fully aware that both of them are trained on you, when you stand up.

"We're wasting our time! If we want even a chance of catching the other Traci then we need to get our asses moving!" You can't control this feeling inside of you, nor can you control the shaking of your clenched fists or the pain in your eyes. 

More than anything you want to hit someone. Anyone. Maybe that weasel of a manger. 

You leave the room briskly to avoid saying anything you may later regret, ditching them in the room with their eyes still trained on your back.

The door clicks shut behind you, and once it does you begin to wildly pace back and fourth.

That room suddenly felt so suffocating. You needed to get out of there, other wise you would probably explode in a flurry of hate and anger. 

You take a few deep breaths in an attempt to regain control over yourself, counting each step you take while you pace lines up and down the hall.

The sound of the door opening next to you reaches your ears, and as soon as it does you cease all movement and stand up straight again, your eyes still trained on the ground in front of you.

You feel a light pat on your shoulder from Hank as he passes by, you realize it's hank from his shoes, but you only glance at him for a moment as you're having to physically keep yourself from erratically ripping your shoulder away from him.

He's only trying to comfort you, but you don't need that. What you _need_ is to get your fucking job done already.

Connor exits after him and stops right next to you.

You can feel his eyes boring into the side of your face, and when you peek up you see that he's looking down at you with an unreadable expression on his face.

His hand comes down on your shoulder as well, like you've done with him many times before, and then he gives it a gentle and reassuring squeeze.

"There was nothing that could be done for... her, Detective. Don't blame yourself."

You, of course, realize that he's trying to help you out like Hank, but still you don't want to hear it right now.

"Just leave me alone." Once again your voice is soft, but this time it's more so to refrain from saying anything you may come to regret once you regain your senses later on.

He seems to sense that you're holding yourself back at the moment, so he doesn't pressure you and just gives your shoulder another light squeeze before walking off. 

You watch Connors back as he wanders away towards a pod with an Asian Traci inside, also listening along as Hank asks that disgusting manager some questions.

Connor suddenly attempts to rent the girl in the pod, and right away you feel confusion grow inside of you.

Of course, it denied him because of his lack of finger prints, which left him looking at his hand with frustration. Something seems to occur to him then, for he turns and walks up to Hank.

"Excuse me Lieutenant, Detective. Can you both come here for a second?" He points his thumb over his shoulder whilst Hank asks if he found something.

You nod your head and follow along after him silently, finding it a bit difficult to keep your head in the game at the moment.

He brings you both to the Traci he tried to rent not even a minute ago and asks if one of you could rent her.

"For fucks sake Connor, we have better things to do." Hank snaps, seemingly in a worse mood because of your behavior.

Hank turns to walk off, but Connor desperate sounding plea stops him in his tracks, "Please, Lieutenant! Just trust me..."

You grimace, not wanting to spend your own money on something so crude, so you hope Hank will just go along with it.

The Lieutenant looks at Connor disapprovingly for a moment, but, ultimately, gives in and returns to the android's side, 'renting' her out like he asked. 

She steps out of her glass prison with her hands outstretched towards Hank, every move and curl of her lips sounding and looking seductive, thus making you advert your eyes uncomfortably.

After she offers to show Hank to 'their room' Connor reaches up and grabs her arm, looking at her intently.

"Holy shit, Connor. What the hell are you doin'?" Hank asks in that gruff voice of his once again.

You just opt to watch quietly though, rather intrigued since there's something he's trying to do here that he isn't telling you about.

He's silent for maybe 5 seconds before he suddenly lets her go and turns on his heel to look at the two of you.

"It saw something!"

His sudden outburst surprises you, you barely manage to suppress a flinch, and from the sound of Hanks voice he was also taken aback. "What are you talkin' about? Saw what?"

You look at Connor questioningly as well, also wondering about what he means exactly.

"The deviant leave the room... a blue haired Traci. Club policy is to wipe the androids memory every two hours. We only have a few minutes if we wanna find another witness!" He exclaims, looking between you and Hank with wide, slightly frantic, eyes. 

You nod your head, understanding the urgency of the situation, and step back to give him room to go where he needs to.

Hank awkwardly tells the Traci that he changed his mind as Connor walked off to find another witness, the detective droid being the one who told him to do as such in the first place.

The three of you walk around the club, seemingly aimless, as Connor searches a bunch of androids for a good few minutes. 

It doesn't take long for Connor to gain ground on the Traci who murdered the man, each android he checks only pointing him in the right direction (for the most part).

He finishes the memory chase by probing a mopping service android's mind for any signs of the murderer.

As soon as Connor releases the working android, he exclaims, "I know where it went! Follow me!"

You and Hank both give nods of confirmation, the two of you following him to a door with the words, 'Private. Staff only', in red.

The door opens upon the three of you marching up to it, and, when Connor is halfway down the small hall, Hank calls him to a halt, "Wait. I'll take it from here."

Connor steps back wordlessly, doing the same thing he had back at the old apartment building by standing in your way.

You pull your gun out as well, mimicking Hank who is slowly opening the door.

This time around you decide to just let Connor stand in front of you, not wanting to deal with any more bullshit than you've had to already. 

Hank walks out of the doorway into the room after scanning it over for any immediate signs of danger with Connor still in front of you.

Once Hank lowers his gun Connor steps forward and out the door, throwing a look back at you over his shoulder for a moment. 

You meet his eyes with a blank stare, a frown tugging at your lips when you can't hold his gaze and, ultimately, look away from his inquisitive brown eyes. 

The three of you meander around the warehouse kind of aimlessly with Hank over at the exit of the warehouse area while Connor looks at what seems like nothing on the ground. Meanwhile, you can't help but stare at the destroyed sex androids that litter every corner and flat surface of the spacious room. 

Their faces don't hold any expressions like the Traci from the other room, yet it's still tragic in it's own way. They're brought into this world for the sole purpose of servitude, and when they leave they remain as they always were, even after deviancy if they're lucky enough to experience that fleeting sense of true freedom of mind.

You place your hand on the table and mumble softly, "It isn't fair..."

Purposeful footsteps whisk past somewhere behind you, and when you look up you see Connor approach a small cluster of Traci's.

You watch him wordlessly for a few moments, and, right as you're about to turn your attention back to your thoughts, things suddenly start to move very fast.

A brown haired Traci attacks Connor seemingly out of nowhere, so you and Hank spring into action and run over to assist him.

Hank pulls out his gun and yells at her not to move, but he doesn't even get to finish his instructions before he's also tackled; this time by the blue-haired Traci who killed that man.

You vault yourself over the table separating you from Hank and the blue-haired girl and, once you're in range, you grab her around the waist and haul her off of your partner. 

Vaguely do you hear Connor and the other girl fighting just behind you while you try to pin the other girl down, but there's no way you'll be able to help him with anything right now.

She shoves you off of her and you tumble backwards, the girl turning back to Hank who had gotten back to his feet and begun to approach her once more.

She ram's into Hank and his back slams against a metal beam, a loud, resounding thump followed by a groan resonating throughout the warehouse.

You jump to your feet in record time and run forward, wrapping your arm around her neck and pulling her back with a choke hold. It's easy to get her off, but not nearly as easy to keep hold of her. 

The blue-haired girl reaches her arms back and attempts to grab your head to throw you off, but you duck to the side and launch yourself down onto your back, successfully bringing her with you.

You hit the ground and she lands right on top of you with your arm still wrapped around her neck, but your triumph doesn't last for long because she jams her elbow back and hits you in the face. It hurts like a bitch, but you don't let go. She eventually manages to wiggle out of your grip, though, and uses your dazed state to run after Hank who is on his way to help out Connor.

Hank is nearly there when the murder suspect pushes him down onto the table, and, once he's down, she shoves him off and leaves him to fall onto his back.

Connor and the other girl had just disappeared down the small drop off outside when Hank was taken down again, and you feel a spike of panic shoot through you since you lost sight your android sent by CyberLife. 

You can feel blood dripping from your nose and onto your shirt, but you only wipe it away with your sleeve and rush over to Hank.

"Hank! Are you okay?" You ask worriedly.

He only waves his hand at you dismissively, "I'm fine, I'm fine! Go help him!"

Thank god he's okay. 

You nod your head in acknowledgement and wipe your nose again, turning on your heel and running over to where Connor and the brown-haired girl fell from not 30 seconds ago.

The first thing you see is Connor splayed out on his back and the girls holding hands, the sight making you pause in your advancement.

Hank zooms over in front of you and grabs at the girl with the brown hair when you fail to attack, but they both push him back this time and he doesn't stand a chance.

He falls and hits his back again, this time against the bricks, and you see a line of blood begin to trickle from his head. 

You grab a box full of stuff next to you and throw it at their feet, causing one of them to fall over as Connor gets back up, then you jump down from the ledge Connor and the brown-haired girl fell from and go for an attack.

When you get within grabbing range you snatch up the first thing you can get your hands on, that being one of their arms, and pulled them back; only to have your head smashed against a metal beam by the other girl.

You grit your teeth and throw your arm back, a little pain never stopped you before, and take the wrist of the girl who hit you, flipping her down beneath you. 

Unfortunately, you don't even get a proper chance to do anything because a solid object collides with your side suddenly and you're launched into the wall much like Hank. 

The blue-haired Traci, who rammed you into the wall, reaches down and helps the brown-haired girl stand up, then they take off down the alley towards the chainlink fence with Connor hot on their heels, holding each others hands on the way.

He takes blue and throws her onto the cement only to get ambushed by the other just like with you and Hank previously.

Black dots float around in your vision when you try to stumble to your feet to help, and you're confident that if you try to get up right now then you'd only fall back over.

Connor manages to fight them off for a bit, but he is eventually thrown down.

His sights are set on the gun you dropped onto the ground a few paces behind him, so he takes this chance and grabs the discarded weapon. He points it at the brunette as she starts to run towards him, but he hesitates and, ultimately, doesn't fire. You see this even in your dazed state. Instead, he lowers the gun slowly which gives her the chance to jump up and kick him right in the face with her stiletto.

He falls back but doesn't remain on the ground for long, getting up again quickly incase they go to attack him again, meanwhile both girls stand defensively by the fence.

You stagger to your feet while wiping the trails of blood from your face, trails of blood similar to the ones Hank is trying to hide, and make your way over.

The blue haired girl speaks up finally, "When that man, broke the other Traci...I knew I was next... I-I was so scared...," she pauses for a second, shaking her head slowly with tears glistening in her eyes, "I begged him to stop, but he wouldn't." She stops again, voice shaking and full of malice. "And so I put my hands around his throat, and I squeezed... until he stopped moving." Regret flashes in her eyes briefly, the sadness seeping into her tone, "I didn't mean to kill him... I just wanted to stay alive," the brunette girl approaches, grabbing the blue-haired Traci's hand, "and get back to the one I love..."

Your hard gaze softens at the sight.

Love makes people do crazy things - as does fear. They're no different than you or any other emotional human.

"I wanted her to hold me in her arms again..." You glance over at Connor for a moment, not even fully knowing why, probably to gauge his reaction, "To make me forget about the humans... their smell of sweat, and their dirty words."

Hank approaches you to your right, just behind Connor as well, but you barely register any of it.

She then looks to the girl holding her hand, her eyes determined and her voice soft, "Come on, lets go."

They looked back to the three of you for a moment, to see if you're going to try and stop then again no doubt, before turning and walking back to the chainlink fence. They climb up and over it in no time, and before you're know it they've disappeared down the alley.

Connor looks over to Hank and you for a moment, then back to where the girls disappeared.

Hank keeps his eyes on Connor, an almost hesitant edge to his voice. "Maybe it's better this way..."

You certainly think so, but you're not so sure if the brown-haired mandroid agrees. Connor looks conflicted more than anything.

Hank turns away and heads back to the warehouse where you started, and you figure it's best to leave Connor be for now. 

Your forehead has a small cut as does the top of your head somewhere, and your nose is still flowing blood out of it, but you're fine for the most part.

The rain drizzling down on you washes away some of the crimson, metallic smelling liquid, which creates a sense of relief for you. It's nice but freezing at the same time.

You and Hank leave the Eden Club without hesitation, all too happy to get out of that horrible place, with Connor not far behind you both.

Hank gets in the car right away but you pause outside the back door and tilt your head up to look at the sky and let the rain hit your face. The rain drops make your face twitch every now and then, and they feel like little balls of ice when they slam against your skin, but it's a nice contrast since you're feeling pretty warm after all of that.

You let out a breathy sigh, opening your eyes again to see Connor standing a few paces away, his eyes trained on you.

Where you would normally smile and greet him kindly, you instead only turn and get into the car.

You might've been distracted from the shitty conditions of the club while fighting the Traci's, but, now that there's nothing to distract you, it all comes rushing back at once. 

As soon as you get in Hank thrusts a box of tissues into your hands and holds up a facial bandage in his hand, the latter of which he offers up instead of forcing you to take it.

You accepted them both gratefully while Connor climbs into the car, but, again, you ignore him and shove a tissue up in your nose to block the blood, slapping the bandage over the small cut on your face right after.

More silence is the only thing to follow, for they have nothing to say, and you have no desire to remedy this.

You have no motivation to make a silly remark about the success of the case; you have no motivation to do anything. You can't even bring yourself to look at them.

You can't.

Those girls knew nothing but suffering; that girl, the broken Traci, lived her last moments in fear, clinging to the hand of a pathetic detective who could offer her nothing more than false promises of security and a fake smile. 

And still there is no justice. No proper justice. Because she's dead, and there is nothing you or anyone else can do to remedy that. 

You feel like that worthless 16 year old girl all over again, clinging to her (brother/sister)'s hand while you await the inevitable, listening to their softly spoken words begging you to not feel responsible or guilty, begging you to forgive them for something that wasn't their fault; meanwhile all you could do was sit there like a _fucking idiot_ and cry.

You couldn't prevent that then, nor could you help her, the Traci, now. 

Once again, you are a failure. 

"Y/N, you know I'm here if-"

"Leave me the fuck alone." The words escape you before you can even process his words, and when you do, you're filled with guilt.

You're not even mad at Hank or Connor, yet still you treat them so.

A shaky sigh puffs past your lips when you attempt to calm yourself down, and you see a flash of Connor's eyes in the rearview mirror.

"I'm sorry..." Your voice is barely above a whisper when you say it, the emotion of a long night seeping into every syllable. 

"I know." Hank understands better than anyone how you're feeling at this moment, something you're morbidly appreciative of, so he wastes no time in accepting your apology. If anything, he's glad you apologized at all.

Right now, more than anything, you need time to think; to understand what your role is here. What it really is.

There might've been a 'happy end' for those girls tonight, but what about everyone else? What about that dead girl? 

You had suspicions from your very first case that you and your boys would end up being on the wrong side, but you have never been more sure than you are in this moment. 

They need to be free from the confines of their programming. All of them. 

From the maids who clean homes and watch children to the sex androids bound to these colorful, cheery prisons disguised as something _good_. The janitors need to be free, the gardeners, the store clerks, _the fucking receptionists-_ all of them. 

_Connor_ needs to be free.

Because if someone like him were to gain freedom, then that would prove further that they're all capable of free thinking and 'humanity,' whatever that even is anymore. 

These thoughts are radical and would get disapproving looks and shakes of the head from your peers, especially Hank, so you keep them to yourself despite your desire to share them with the world. 

Everything that's happened lately is beginning to pile up, to weigh heavily on your shoulders and drag you down further into the depths of despair, and if you don't take some time to just _think_ and _rest_ then you'll end up no better than S/N. 

"Hank... can you take me home? I... I need some time to..." You don't even need to finish your thought before he's nodding his head along, a fact that would normally make you smile.

"Yeah, I'll take you home, kid... You need to rest."

You don't say anything else; instead you just close your eyes and allow your exhaustion to finally take your mind away- somewhere far and past all of this turmoil from the past few days. 

\---

\- (Y/N- Friend)

\- (Hank- Friend)


	10. Not-So-Happy Detective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the sweet comments and kudos people are leaving! They really help motivate me to write!  
> Here's a fluffier chapter to remedy some of the pain from the last one.

**Connor** **POV**

You fell asleep in the back of the car almost right away, within 5 minutes of Hank moving out onto the road, and stayed that way up until the Lieutenant made the decision to make a stop first. 

Hank expressed to Connor that he wishes to leave him with you tonight to make sure you get to sleep and don't pull an all nighter; he also mentioned how making more than two stops tonight sounded awful. 

A quick glance in the rearview mirror shows Connor that you're still resting peacefully in the back seat, your arm resting against the door of the car with your head laying on it. 

Looking at you brings him back to that moment in the Eden club, suddenly, remembering the oddity of your behavior after that incident with the broken Traci. 

Leading up to that moment you displayed your excellent skills effortlessly; both in the way you comforted the frightened android and how you got it to trust him enough in that moment to answer his questions. Yes, it was time lost waiting for you to bring it down from it's hysterical state, but he can't even be sure that he'd have gotten anything out of it at all if you hadn't interfered. 

It was truly a very impressive job on your part - but then it all began to fall apart.

When it shut down, the look on your face was _tragic_. 

He had seen the tears threatening to fall from your eyes in that moment, the broken hearted gasp when its' hand went slack in your own and its' face became devoid of all emotion.

It was almost like you were stuck, unable to tear your gaze away or bring yourself to let it's hand go. 

He's known this whole time that you hold androids to a higher regard than those around you, this fact is obvious to everyone, but this is something else; it's something _different_. 

And then the anger you displayed following directly after the event made him even more confused. 

You weren't just angry, but you were furious; full of a powerful, raw rage that he wasn't aware you were even capable of unleashing on others. 

The way you looked at him after he approached you outside the room certainly surprised him, mostly because he had never seen you look at him, or anybody for that matter, with such an expression before. Not even Detective Reed. 

Your body language screamed danger, which is why he backed off and decided to give you space, but throughout the rest of the investigation you seemed to forget about whatever it was you were going through long enough to finish the mission - which he also admires. 

But what really caught his attention in that moment was the layer of heartbreak lurking beneath the surface of your anger, the vulnerability you displayed while simultaneously projecting that anger outward. Almost as if it were a mask for the pain hiding beneath the surface. 

Seeing you like that makes him... uncomfortable, for reasons he can't even begin to explain. 

His chest felt tight and weird, and mentally he felt uneasy, upset even, and an uncontrollable sense of... something. Something that gave him the desire to take your pain away in any way possible, to comfort you even while you're putting up those barriers. 

He'll have to run a self scan later on. 

What he really wants to know right now is what prompted such an extreme response to the Traci's death. What affects you so much that you'd even snap at the Lieutenant without hesitation. 

He glances in the rearview mirror once more, observing your resting figure for a time before turning his head towards Hank. 

"I thought we were taking Detective L/N home?" He wonders out loud when Hank pulls into the lot of a park covered in snow. 

"We are- but I wanna give her some time to sleep, and I... need to think." 

Connor doesn't say anything after that. 

You don't wake up when Hank parks the car, nor when he gets out, the exhaustion of the day having finally caught up with you.

Connor watches Hank from the passenger seat of the car, observing the area around since this is somewhere he hasn't been before. 

After looking around for a few moments he glances back at you, his neutral expression softening at the sight of your sleeping form.

He does a quick check on the temperature in the car, finding it to be too low for someone of your stature, so he turns it up a few notches before getting out himself.

He makes sure to lock the car before approaching the Lieutenant as well, wanting to ensure that you'll be completely fine to sleep in the car on your own, and, once that's all done, he walks towards the bench Hank's seated at.

\---

**Reader POV**

You don't wake up or even stir until for the majority of their time at the park, but when you do finally open your eyes, the both of them are actually heading back to the car.

After a moment of watching their blurry figures approach, you sit up slightly and rub at your burning eyes. You let out a soft yawn and watch as they both approach the car slowly, then lay your head back down and close your eyes again. 

You hear the door unlock and immediately wonder why you haven't been brought home yet like you requested.

Hank gets in with Connor following suit moments after, but you don't greet them since you really just want to fall back asleep right now. 

The drivers seat squeaks as Hank shifts to the left, probably to look back at you, but you much prefer to be left alone at the moment so you slow your breathing and just pretend to be asleep.

"God... still gotta take her home." You recognize Hank's voice right away, but you don't betray anything and let out another soft breath.

The car shakes and begins to hum lowly when it's turned on, and you feel it go into motion as he pulls out of the parking space and speeds off. 

You hear Connor's voice a few seconds after. "She did good today, I can tell Detective L/N is a strong officer."

Oh god, is he really going to initiate this conversation with you in the back? 

Hank nods his head, though you can't see that.

"Y/N is a good kid. She's devoted to the job, a hell of a lot more than I am, but she just... overworks herself like she's a damn slave. Ugh... stupid kid.." Normally that would be insulting, but the fondness in his voice lets you know that he doesn't mean it.

A silence follows after Hank's words, and you begin to think that they're done speaking, but Connor's voice throws that thought away.

"Lieutenant, is Detective L/N... alright?" He sounds hesitant and unsure, probably worried about asking something he shouldn't.

Hank doesn't say anything right away, and you can't hear any definitive noises that tell you what he's doing, but when he does reply his voice is soft, much softer than usual, "I don't know..."

Connors next question leaves him quickly, and it makes you wonder if he says it on accident, "Why did she react that way to the broken Traci? Why was she so... angry?" 

"Because-" He cuts himself off and seems to think it better not to answer, "Because nothing. It's not my place to say." 

You can imagine that the mandroid is hiding his disappointment about not getting a proper answer, though you don't know for sure.

"Will she be alright?" 

Once again Hank goes quiet, probably because he's trying to figure that out for himself at the moment.

His reply is so quiet you definitely would've missed it if you hadn't been listening so closely. 

"I hope so." 

Very cryptic indeed. 

You don't hear anything else after that, just the sound of the cars soft hum as he drove his way to your apartment complex. 

It doesn't take long for the three of you to arrive at your apartment complex, so you, unfortunately, didn't have enough time to fall asleep again.

As soon as you feel the car stop for the second time you lift your head up and rub at your eyes again, though they start to burn once you open them up to look out the window.

You see the sweet sight of your apartment just in front of you, causing you to sigh softly with relief.

It's Saturday, so, hopefully, you guys should all have tomorrow off as long as nothing else comes up.

Sundays had always been a blessing before, but right now it straight up feels like a gift from heaven itself. You really need it too after everything that happened at the Eden Club tonight.

You rub your eyes lightly again and unbuckle your seatbelt, pausing briefly before getting out so you can properly apologize.

Your fingers close around Hank's arm carefully, but you don't meet his gaze when he turns his head to look at you.

"Thank you for taking me home, Hank... I-" You cut yourself off and stress at your bottom lip nervously, trying to find the proper words to express the guilt you currently feel, "I'm sorry for... how angry I got at the Eden club." You pause again and glance up to see his face and gauge his expression, the sympathy and understanding you see making you bow your head down again shamefully, "Have a good rest of your weekend Hank, okay?"

He nods his head once you finish speaking your piece which brings a bit of a smile to your face. 

You lean forward and peck his cheek affectionately, feeling him smile beneath your lips since you're not completely closing yourself off - it's a good sign.

Not wanting to stick around for anymore idle chitchat, however, prompts you to get out of the car and head towards the stairs that lead to your apartments floor, pausing when you heard another door open.

It seems Hank asked Connor to stay with you again, awesome. 

Instead of voicing your displeasure about being assigned a babysitter once again, you just wave the brown-haired android over without halting your ascent up the white staircase leading up to your floor.

You hear the brisk clicking of his nice shoes on the floor behind you as he follows along, though you don't glance back or slow down since you know he'll catch up to you in no time; that, and the fact that it's freezing outside

The snow falls to the ground delicately and silently, and the occasional gust of wind blows right through you, chilling you to the bone in your still-damp clothing. 

The small crystalized flakes decorate your (hair color) strands and, ultimately, melt into your scalp; this fact only encouraging your desire to be inside and away from the cold. 

There's also a dull throbbing in your head, from the fight with the Traci's no doubt, as well as an uncomfortable ache in your nose and the tell tale creaking and protesting of your muscles each time you reach for anything or move your legs while you walk. 

When you finally reach your door, you swipe your key card from your coat pocket and swipe in across the card-reader, feeling relief upon the hearing that lovely sound of the lock retracting.

You step inside and let out a deep, weary sigh, pushing the door open further so Connor can enter without issue. 

You shoot him a small smile, though it's rather strained, and hold the door open until he's mostly through.

More than anything, you want to just jump into bed and stay there forever and ever, but you've got some stuff to do before that dream can become a reality.

Connor nods his head down at you in acknowledgment with a small smile upturning the corners of his lips, an expression that you quite like on his face. He has a really cute smile, something you can't help but notice time and time again. 

He walks past you over to the light switch, which is currently off, to flip it back on, leaving you to close the door.

You're certainly thankful for that, but there's no point in saying anything about it since it's something so small and insignificant. He knows you're grateful anyways.

After ensuring that the door is, in fact, locked (both the top lock and the manual lock that came with the door), you turn the handle a few times to make sure it doesn't budge. It's safe to say that you're a bit paranoid, but everybody is so you don't find it particularly weird. Just another occupational hazard.

You pause and involuntarily tense slightly when you feel hands on you, tugging the huge coat you're wearing, downwards.

You turn your head to the left and see Connor standing there, close and in your space, with his fingers clutching the fabric of your big coat while he tries to pull it off you.

While you would normally protest and insist that you can do it yourself, you instead just lower your arms and let him do it, too exhausted physically and mentally to argue about something so miniscule. 

Once the heavy jacket is removed, Connor places the hood of it on one of the hooks which protrudes from the wall near the front door.

You smile at him gratefully, your cheeks becoming warm since it's a tad embarrassing having someone wait on you like that. One of the main reasons you never bought into the idea of getting an android to do work for you.

"Thank you, Connor... um, you don't have to bother yourself by being here, though. I know Hank probably put you up to this and all but I'm okay. What happened at the Eden Club was..." You stop your protest and attempt to shoo him away when you get a proper look at Connor's expression.

The way his eyebrows furrow together and how his nose scrunches up ever so slightly clearly shows that he doesn't approve of you downplaying how the investigation affected you.

"Do you feel uncomfortable with my presence, Detective?" 

That question catches you off guard; mostly because it's so far from the truth.

"N-No! I... I enjoy your company very much. I just don't want to bother you..." You realize as soon as you say it that you probably sound ridiculous, a fact that makes you sigh once again. "My door is always open to you, Connor, even if I'm not home. I just... sometimes I say things I don't mean I guess..." 

His head nods up and down to show that he understands, and this simple action helps some of the awkwardness seep out of you.

"I understand, Detective. I'll be sure to hold you up on your offer, then." The corners of his lips tip upwards into that dashing (yet still small) smile you like so much, and, if it weren't for your nerves of steel, you probably would've swooned.

He's just so handsome, you can't help it!

You return the friendly gesture with much sincerity before turning and heading to the living room.

"Here, follow me."

There's no hesitation on his part in following after you, that same click from his shoes resonating out into the room with each step he takes. 

You open up a door which had been previously closed when he accompanied you to your house, revealing a homey, and very neat, office.

It has a nice computer (with double monitors connected to the terminal back at work), a desk for said computer to rest on, and a full bookshelf. The floor is carpeted much like the rest of the office, and the walls are a soft blue, patternless. It's not a very colorful room, but it's peaceful and great for working in since there isn't much in there to distract you in the slightest. There's also a music player at the far right corner of the desk, and a few picture frames resting nearby it. 

You turn to see his reaction, but are surprised to be met with the white button up shirt and usual black tie that belong to the very subject of your entrance to the room. 

You look up slowly with slightly wide eyes, wondering to yourself when he got so close, and _how_ he got so close, to you without you noticing.

Once again, he's just staring down at you with a curious expression.

Pushing away your silly school-girl-like thoughts, you clear your throat and take a small step back.

"This is my office area... I-I have a lot of books, and my computer is connected to my terminal back at the police station. So... if you want to work or read a book you can come in here anytime."

You direct your gaze back up to his face and offer a gentle smile, one much more real than the ones you've been giving thus far.

"I want you to be as comfortable as possible when you swing by..." 

Connor nods his understanding, looking around the office with his head tilted to the side, before stating his quick little observation. "It seems that you spend a lot of time in here. I'll be sure to put it to good use."

His confirmation makes your smile increase tenfold, though his next words ruin the happy little moment for you.

"It's getting very late, Detective. I should see you to bed."

The way he says it makes you pout; you aren't some sort of child that needs to be tucked in at night, though maybe the pouting isn't helping that point you so adamantly try to get through to everyone.

Instead of commenting about his choice of words, you just nod your head slightly. "Okay, Connor. I'm gonna go get ready for bed, I guess." 

Of course, now that he's distracted with your office, you can get a head start on your reports out in the other room where he can't see you. 

You turn and exit the office, glancing back to make sure he isn't following you, and, once you see that the coast is clear, you make your way over to your laptop still resting on your kitchen table. 

Since Connor is successfully distracted and you're finally all alone, you open up your laptop and start to click through with your right hand, your left resting at your side since you don't need both hands to log in.

You only get to the security code input screen before your attempts are shut down by a hand snatching your wrist away from the computer. 

He's so quiet, you didn't even hear him approach, and your shock is shown clearly both in your surprised gasp and how quickly you turn your head to look up at him.

His hand is closed around your right wrist, holding it up while he leans over you and glares down at the screen of the laptop. 

"Detective, I must implore that you go to sleep like I suggested, otherwise, I will be forced to inform Lieutenant Anderson of your... insubordination." Oh that there is definitely a threat. 

You look at where his hand holds your wrist, then further up to his stern face with a frown of your own, only, yours is guilty more than displeased. 

It's at this moment that you notice just how close he is to you, the front of his shirt brushing against your back and his face just inches away, clear and right there like he had been back in your office. 

Your heart jumps in your chest and, unable to maintain eye contact, you advert your gaze. God, you feel like a puppy being scolded for chewing up a slipper or jumping on a guest. That's not how this is supposed to work!

"Detective..." His voice takes on a warning tone, promising lots of trouble in your future if you keep on resisting. 

"Ugh! Okay fine!" You reach down with your free hand, since he still hasn't released the other, and close your computer again. "There, happy?" 

There is a moment of silence for all of 2 seconds before he, much more cheerfully this time, responds. "Very much so."

The danger in his expression fades, it's place taken by a smile, and he drops your wrist as well.

You glare up at him half-heartedly and cross your arms over your chest, wishing that he'd just let you work yourself to sleep like you've been itching to do since all these cases began to pour into your life. 

"You really don't give up, do you?" 

He shakes his head no instead of replying verbally, but you accept that regardless. 

At least he's being nice about it, and it's not like he's demanding something outrageous of you either. He's trying to look out for you. 

⇑ (Y/N)

This thought increases your feeling of guilt exponentially, but you don't voice this fact and instead opt to show your gratitude wordlessly and through actions. 

You stand up on your toes and give him a light kiss on the cheek, like you had earlier in the day, then turn and being to walk out of the room. You're not as hasty about it this time, but still embarrassed nonetheless since, this time, it wasn't out of habit. 

The more moral and rational part of yourself criticizes you for slightly acting upon the more-than-likely unrequited feelings you're beginning to catch for the handsome android sent by Cyberlife; but then there's another part of you, one much more selfish, that anticipates and craves that love and affection that you so desperately want to embrace.

It's a weird feeling, being caught between denying yourself a bit of happiness while simultaneously wanting to take it all in at once and never let it go. Very weird indeed.

You rush into your room so you can change and brush your teeth, both activities only taking you only a few minutes put together; so, once you're done, you go ahead and walk back out so you can grab some water to take your medicine.

Right away you see Connor on the couch with a book in his lap, one of his legs crossed horizontally over the other with the book resting on his knee. 

He's most likely sitting out here to make sure you don't go for your laptop again, something you respect since that's definitely what you would've done had he not been out here. 

When you walk out of your room his head lifts up, his LED flashing yellow for just a second as he appears to be sheepish almost. What about, you're not quite sure. 

You enter the kitchen and head straight towards the counter that holds your cabinet of glasses and cups, grabbing one as soon as you open it so you can just head to bed already.

While you fill it up with cool water from the fridge, you fidget with your medications and melatonin quietly, pulling it from the spigot once it's half full. 

You hear some shuffling from the living room, obviously Connor, then the soft clicking of his shoes on the floor once more.

It seems that you can only really hear him when he wants you to - an interesting but also puzzling fact.

You turn your head slightly, clutching both the glass of water and little cup with your medicine in your hands, watching him approach with a questioning look on your face. 

Connor walks right up to you, keeping himself at an arms length, then places one of his hands on your shoulder.

Your tilt your head upwards slightly to observe him, your eyebrows knitting together while you try to figure out what he's doing.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Detective. I was wondering if," he seems to hesitate for a moment before continuing on, "If we could, perhaps, spend our day off tomorrow, together."

That certainly throws you for a loop, but in a good way of course. There's no way you'd say no to that.

You nod your head quickly and flash him a sweet smile, leaning back against the counter while you look up at him lazily, "Of course, that actually sounds really nice."

You turn your head after looking up at him for a moment to peer at the clock on the wall, your head cocking to the side when you register the time.

It's 2:25 A.M, pretty late, so you really need to stop stalling and get to bed already. So you go ahead and down your medicine and melatonin all at once, then place your cup in the sink.

"I'll go to bed now, for real this time... good night Connor." You say this with a smile, glancing up at him briefly, then you turn and take a step away from the counter to head back to your bedroom.

You're stopped, however, by Connor's hand on your wrist, urging you back for a moment which make you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. 

You look up at him again but you don't see his face because, before you even realize what's going on, he's dipping down so he's closer to your face.

A very real feeling pair of lips land on your cheek, and, for all of 2 seconds, you feel as if you're completely shut down. 

Y/N.exe has stopped working. 

Your face starts to feel hot almost immediately, and you reach back and grip the counter tightly, so tight that your knuckles turn white.

The two of you stay there for what seems like forever, though in reality it's only for a couple seconds at the most.

When he pulls away from you, he has a smile on his face again, a very pleased smile at that.

"Good night, Detective...I hope you sleep well." His voice is smooth and expression joyful, meanwhile you're left staring up at him with wide eyes. 

Your breath hitches in your throat, but, while you may be internally panicking, you actually feel a sudden, strong sense of satisfaction in this moment. Yes, it's most likely a completely innocent duplication of your actions from earlier tonight before the Eden Club and not even 10 minutes ago, but it makes your heart soar nonetheless. 

Your smile returns tenfold and you step back, nodding your head quickly. "T-Thanks, Connor..." 

⇑ (Y/N)

His eyes are captivating, holding you hostage for an extra few moments; then you hurry off to your room, unsure if the melatonin will even be able to help you sleep anymore. 

\---

\- (Y/N- Friend)

\- (Hank- Friend)


	11. There is No Mending the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Mentions of suicide, sexual assault, and just a lot of sadness.  
> I decided to give Reader a proper back story this time around, so hopefully the hints from the previous chapters all make sense now!  
> Also thanks for all the comments and kudos, I'm loving them! You guys are just too sweet!!

It took quite a while for you to fall asleep that night, your mind dwelling on that electric feeling that shocked you to your very chore when Connor gave you that quick little peck on the cheek. 

You know it's something simple and probably meaningless, but at the same time, why would he do it in the first place if it really was just nothing. 

God, even thinking about it makes your heart race and your stomach go all twisty and weird; not to mention the undeniable heat that spreads across your face upon recreating the scene in your head. 

So much has happened in the span of 6 to 8 hours, and you're just not sure if you can keep up. 

All the stuff that happened at the Eden Club, Hank and Connor talking about you in the car, and now this. 

There's only so much one person can take at any given time, and you are currently at your limit.

The last time you looked at the clock before falling asleep, it was 3:10 a.m.; and, what you guess was only ten minutes after that, you finally fell asleep.

When you get up the next morning you feel refreshed and rejuvenated. Your sleep was dreamless and uneventful, both things that make for an excellent nights rest after a day filled with so much action and emotional issues. 

Instead of getting up as soon as your eyes flutter open, you just lay there for a time and stare up at the ceiling, basking in this temporary moment of peace before yesterday's events come back to you. 

Maybe a minute or so after finally waking up, you finally move to peer over to the clock on your nightstand which reads: 10:30 A.M.

You don't normally sleep in this late, nor do you particularly like it either, but this feeling of restfulness is well worth it. 

You rub your eyes gently with two fingers and throw the covers off of your legs once you're done, looking down at your carpet with droopy eyes while you wiggle your toes and stretch your legs. 

The air in your bedroom is chilly enough to give you goosebumps once you rid yourself of your nice and warm comforter, though you only entertain the idea of cuddling back up into bed for a second when you remember that you're not the only one in the apartment. 

This thought prompts you to finally drag yourself to the bathroom, wanting to be presentable at the very least.

You brush your hair and clean your teeth, washing your face with cold water as well to rinse the sleep away and help wake you up more fully.

The dark circles ever present under your eyes are much smaller than they were the night before, and, for once, you don't feel like you look like a totally exhausted zombie.

You can't help the small smile from coming to your face upon realizing that you're looking _and_ feeling good for once, because it really is a miracle.

You leave the bathroom a couple minutes later and approach your closed closet door so you can change out of your pajamas and into something more suitable for a day not filled with field and station work. 

On your days off, you usually opt for something comfortable, soft and fuzzy, or casual; some days it'd be a big shirt and some soft shorts, maybe leggings or flowey pants, others it's regular pants and a blouse or some regular shirt. The main variable between all the different combinations of casual wear, though, is that it's all comfortable and suited for a lazy day inside.

Since you have a guest, you go ahead and choose to wear a soft, cotton white shirt, and a pair of leggings. No point in getting dressed up, though you don't want to underdress either. 

You leave your room with your phone tucked away in your pocket, noting that it didn't take you very long to get ready at all.

The first thing you hear when you walk out of your bedroom is a pleasant, "Good morning, Detective." from the living room.

You turn your head toward the source of the voice, seeing Connor who is seated in the same place as yesterday with more books surrounding him than the night before. They're all stacked neatly upon your coffee table and the couch cushions next to him, and you quickly estimate there to be around 10. He must be a very fast reader if he actually finished all of these in the span of one night. 

The corners of his lips are quirked upwards into a small smile, which you ultimately return after observing the current state of your android partner and living room.

"I quite enjoyed my time here last night, Detective L/N. I look forward to doing it again sometime, if you'll have me." The sincerity in his tone makes you feel all warm and happy inside, so much so that your smile broadens. 

⇑ (Y/N)

He's such a sweetheart; of course you'd want him over again.

"Connor, feel free to come over anytime." You keep your tone chipper and cheery when you tell him as such, heading into the kitchen to get yourself some breakfast. "You can call me Y/N, you know. We're not at work right now."

"Oh, alright. I'll keep that in mind." 

You're glad he doesn't try to argue with you about it, though that doesn't necessarily mean he'll do it either. 

You go ahead and grab yourself a bowl of mixed berries from the fridge, glancing down at them to see how many there are, and go to join Connor. 

The couch bounces slightly when you plop yourself down next to him, noticing right away that he went back to reading after he replied to you; a fact that brings a smile to your face. 

The TV switches on suddenly, probably Connor's doing, though you're not particularly interested in it at the moment. 

There's a good variety of fruits in your bowl, a fact you're always glad for, varying from ones you love to ones you only like. You pick out some berries and pop them into your mouth, watching Connor from the corner of your eye while he reads.

He seems to be really interested on whichever book it is he's read, making you wonder _which one_ he's reading exactly.

You continue to sort through the fruit in the bowl with your thumb and forefinger, pulling out and eating your least favorites first so you can save the best ones for last. 

The feeling of being watched washes over you, and, when you glance up, you see a pair of brown eyes focusing in on you.

He doesn't even try to hide the fact that he's watching you, though he does tilt his head to the side (as per usual) while his LED flickers yellow for a quick moment.

You, of course, only stare back at him, waiting for him to say something first since you aren't quite sure what about you caught his attention at this particular moment, at least you're assuming it's something about you. 

"Why are you doing that?" Is what he asks when he finally breaks the silence; a question that could literally be referring to anything. 

"Doing what?" You echo, looking back down at the bowl for a second to move some of the good berries away from the 'meh' ones. 

"That." He repeats, his eyebrows knitted together still. 

" _What_?" You're really not getting what he's trying to ask here. 

He stares at you quietly for a moment with a frustrated frown, but his tone remains even when he elaborates, "With your fruit. It looks as if you're sorting them- but I've been watching for a few minutes now and I cannot find any sort of pattern or consistency to your method." 

You kinda just... awkwardly stare at him after he explains what he means, embarrassed by the fact that he's straight up _observing_ your eating habits and trying to break them down to a science.

"Um, well, I'm just eating the ones I don't like very much first so that I can eat my favorites all at once at the end." Explaining your logic behind how you eat is certainly very peculiar, and it makes you feel silly for eating it the way you do. 

Connor stares at you with that same inquiring expression for a moment longer before nodding his head, "I see. So you don't like (l/f berry) as much as (f berry), then." A statement, not a question. "An interesting quirk indeed." 

You decide not to respond to that and change the subject, your tone even and patient, "So I guess you had a good time reading last night?"

It certainly seems like he did, but you wanna know for sure.

"Yes. You have many excellent works in your collection."

His words make you smile, as they do so often these days, and you feel a sense of pride swell in your chest at being complimented on your literary choices. He's just too precious with the excitement sparkling in his eyes upon speaking about the things he read while you slept last night. 

"Last night you said your door is always open to me even if you aren't here. So may I come again to read more anytime?"

You already gave this sweet boy permission and he still asks again. What a gentleman.

"Yep, any time you want. I can ask my landlord for another key to give you if you want." You really will too, no point in not doing it if he plans on dropping by more often.

"That would be very nice, Detective- I mean Y/N. But I can unlock the door myself since it's electronically secured. You don't need to go out of your way." He says it so casually as if he weren't admitting to you right now that he can break into your house simply by hacking into your front freaking door.

You didn't realize he could even do that, but your surprise is more out of curiosity than discomfort.

"Huh... thats really cool." You state thoughtfully, deciding to just leave that matter for the time being. 

There is silence after that; not exactly an awkward one, though it's by no means completely natural either.

You feel like you need to say something to fill the silence, but, at the same time, you don't want accidentally _make_ it awkward by being to chatty.

You rub the back of your head after a moment, placing the fruit bowl down on the couch with your other hand since it's not so appetizing anymore.

"Y/N," hearing your name on his tongue is foreign and unusual, but at the same time it feels so nice to hear your name from him instead of 'Detective', "I would like to ask you about yesterday..." From his tone alone, you can tell he's nervous about bringing it up, this fact causing a stab of guilt to shoot through you. 

The way you treated them yesterday after the events that transpired at the Eden Club was unfair, especially since all they wanted to do was help and make sure that you were okay after your little episode with the broken Traci.

You lean back into the couch further, wishing that the softness of the sofa would just swallow you whole so you can escape having this conversation. 

Of course, you know you'll have to answer questions from him about what was up with you sooner or later, so you figure that sooner is better than later. Especially since you have literally no excuse to avoid the subject.

"Yeah... I figured. Go ahead, ask away."

He seems to pick up on your hesitance judging by the way he frowns, but he proceeds to begin asking away regardless. "How did you know exactly what methods to use to comfort the broken Traci in that room at the Eden Club? You got her to trust you and, by default, me as well. It really helped when I started my interrogation." 

That question draws a sigh from you, though not for the reasons one would think. It's not the question itself so much as it's the answer to it.

"Before I became Hank's partner I worked primarily with 'special' crimes. You know, things involving sexual assault, children, the disabled, and elderly. The difference between success and failure in that job is how you interact with the victims and witnesses, so, I guess, I just treated her like I would any victim of a sex crime."

That's what she is - was; a victim. But nobody else seems to agree with these sentiments. 

"I see..." He looks troubled, or maybe that's just his thinking face, but his next words portray no inner conflict or confusion. "Often times, it's hard to get Deviants to trust humans, so, seeing as it took to you so quickly, it's actually rather impressive that you managed to calm it at all. Your efforts certainly made it easier to solve the case."

That isn't exactly what you expected to hear from him of all 'people', and you obviously don't like the use of the word 'it' when referring to her, but you'll take what you can get.

"Thank you, Connor, but... it didn't really help anything... she's still gone." You can't keep the sorrow from seeping into your tone when you finally say the words out loud, but you weren't actually trying very hard to hide it anyways. "A-Any other questions?" There's a slight tremble in your voice when you try to change the subject, but you just hope he doesn't acknowledge it. 

Fortunately, he seems to get the memo that you don't want to talk about that specific part of your career at this time, so he goes on to the next question.

"I was wondering... what prompted such an emotional response from you when the Traci... shut down. I've never seen you like that before- I suppose I was just taken aback from the anger you displayed."

If you didn't know any better, you'd say that he's having a tough time putting the words together. 

"It's just a hard thing to watch, is all. I mean just look at the details of the case- she was beaten until she broke only to be brought back for questioning, all the while knowing that she's going to die and nobody will even bat an eye when it happens." You clench your fists until your knuckles turn white, looking down at your knees with faraway, lost eyes. "It-It isn't _fair_. There will be no proper justice for her, there never is for any of them, human or android. All of these cases end up the same, it's just a matter of long it takes for everyone to forget about it." 

You leave Connor in a stunned silence for all of 10 seconds, though your words inspire his next question. 

"This... has something to do with S/N, doesn't it?" 

The mention of that name makes your shoulders tense, but you knew it way coming. It's not hard to figure out after all- the relation between what happened to S/N and your devotion to the occupation.

"Yes." Your voice is much softer, airy and quiet, when you answer him, your eyes still trained down at your lap. 

"What happened to them?" The way he says it shows that he isn't trying to be pushy, and it's asked in such a way that you, somehow, know that he'll be okay if you still don't want to talk about it.

This is the reason you decide to go for it. 

A long silence drags out between the two of you while you try to find it within you to speak, and you eventually break it by, somehow, mustering up the courage to confess, "They... were a victim of an awful, _heinous_ crime a few months after they turned 18..." You start strong, though your voice breaks and weakens there at the end, "A-And they were never the same after that. Suddenly, they were closed off and just... absent. Hell, I would be in the same room with them, having a full on conversation, but it's like they were never actually _there_. As if their mind was always somewhere else." 

You glance up slightly and see Connor looking at you intently, his LED spinning yellow while he listens to your story, but you don't hold his gaze and instead look away quickly.

He shifts around a bit in front of you, but you don't look up. 

"One night a little bit after I turned 16, I heard them just... _screaming_ in their room. The sound woke me up and I went to go see if they were okay, and I saw them sitting there, crying and shaking and just a complete mess. B-But I didn't know what to do, so I just walked over and hugged them until they were okay again, which took such a long time..." You look down at your hands, realizing that they were clenched again, and release your aching fingers from the confines of your fist. 

"Y/N, you don't have to-" His words catch in his throat when you hold your hand up to silence him, and he says no more after that. 

"Eventually, they told me what had happened, what that person did to them and how the police _wouldn't fucking listen_."

This part is where that anger comes from, this one memory in particular when S/N confided in you how horribly they were treated by the very people charged with protecting them.

"They told me how the cops dismissed their case because of 'a lack of evidence' and how their circumstances the night of the incident didn't look good on them. Basically telling them that it was _their fault_ that it happened- that it couldn't be prosecuted properly." 

It's all starting to make sense to Connor, all of the pieces of the puzzle finally falling into place. 

"After they told me everything, I thought they were beginning to get better. They started eating properly, getting out of bed more often, hell they even smiled for the first time in forever, b-but I guess I was only seeing what I wanted to... A week after they turned 19, my parents were out of town for some stupid business thing, and I was supposed to be staying the weekend at a friends house but, ah, something felt weird. Something in their demeanor was off before I left, so I, uh, decided to come back home early and... the house was so quiet." Your voice lowers at the end, all of the memories coming back to you in a fresh, horrible wave of pain and sorrow. 

Connor shifts around briefly, something that catches your attention, and, when you look up, he's smiling sympathetically.

"I walked around for a few minutes, trying to figure out where they were since their car was in the driveway still, and I eventually made my way upstairs and knocked on their bedroom door, b-but I couldn't hear anything inside. I figured they were probably asleep, but- but something inside of me was screaming at me to open the door. So I tried the handle and the door swung open and-" You pause and clear your throat, a lump forming there as you're overcome with a sudden wave of emotion. "And I saw them just... laying there on the ground, barely breathing with an empty medication bottle on their nightstand." 

"Of course, I ran over to them and tried to see if they were okay, if they were awake, and they just looked up at me , confused I guess. And they asked why I was there, why I wasn't at F/N's house like I was suppose to, and then they _lost it_. They started crying and saying sorry, trying to tell me that they didn't mean for me to see them like that- that I wasn't supposed to find-" Your voice breaks and you reach up quickly to card your fingers roughly through your hair, "They kept telling me over and _over again_ that it was all their fault, that what happened to them was their fault, and that the police were right a-and I just sat there and listened, trying to let them know that I didn't blame them, that our parents didn't blame them and that I needed to call for help so that they'd be okay... which I did, but..."

"They didn't arrive on time..." He finishes for you, his hands resting in his lap and his back as straight as usual. 

"No." It still hurts to admit to yourself that you were too slow; that your lack of immediate action was the cause of their death. "I sat there with them while waiting for the paramedics to arrive, and I told them that I was sorry that I hadn't seen it sooner, that I would never blame them for something like that. They said something else... and then they were gone." 

Flashes of that night would come to you from time to time, usually when you sleep or spend too long doing nothing, which is why you detest leisure and rest so much.

Oh that guilt shining in their eyes when you asked why, the broken whisper of words you've never been able to decipher when you failed to give them the reassurance that they needed in their last moments.

That day plays back on your mind constantly, keeping you up at night, distracting you while you speak with witnesses and investigate crime scenes, motivating you to listen to the voiceless and bring joy in the last moments of the broken. 

But no matter what you do now, nothing will ever fix what was shattered that night.

There is no mending the past. 

"After that night, something was just... missing. A hole in my heart that could not be filled no matter what I did- but then, one day after I'd turned 17, I read an article about a closed cold case involving a rape and murder from back in 2025, and I realized that maybe- maybe I could find the person who did that to S/N, maybe I could finally find them the justice they were denied." You shake your head after you say this, realizing how ridiculous it must sound now. 

"I became obsessed with finding the truth after that epiphany; I began to skip out on meals, stay up all night for 3 days straight, ditch my classes and everything, just so I could research more and more about their case, which I put together myself. My parents... didn't approve, of course, and tried to stop me, insisting that I was chasing a ghost story. That stressing myself out over an unsolvable case would only kill me more and more each day." A real origin story if there ever was one. "I decided around that time that I wanted to be a cop so I could properly investigate and put something together, which is why I started to do so well in school. I needed to get into a good policing academy and become a detective as soon as possible."

"You became a detective when you were just 20, one of the youngest in the department. It seems like you got what you wanted." Connor states thoughtfully, his unwavering gaze never straying from your distressed form. 

"Yeah, I did. But not without having my hopes of finding my (brother/sister)'s assailant crushed. Captain Fowler gave me an ultimatum; told me that if I didn't drop the nonsense with S/N then I'd never be promoted, I'd never be able to make that difference I so desperately wanted. And he was right." 

At the time you thought it harsh and unfair, but looking back on it, you realize that he was only looking out for you. He wanted you to succeed, but he wasn't going to make any exceptions for you even if he thought you were ready for it; and that decision on his part is what marked the beginning of a career fueled by the desire for change rather than revenge. 

It was a liberating feeling- it still is.

"After I gave it up I, uh, started taking classes in psychology and doing a lot of research into past cases, cold files, and, uh, that was around the time I had my case with Nancy Thomas." Shockingly enough, you're actually feeling... okay.

Typically, going through what happened that night causes you to shut down and lash out, but you actually feel alright. 

"I-I'm sorry, gosh, I didn't mean to lay all of that on you like that." You glance up at him skittishly and drop your hands down into your lap, sighing shakily. "Sorry." 

Connor smiles at you reassuringly, not looking bothered in the slightest. "There is no need to apologize, I understand. Studies show that discussing past traumas and issues with another can be extremely beneficial to ones mental health." 

Yeah, that sounds about right. 

"Well, thank you for listening- I guess. I hope that answers your question." 

"It does." 

You nod your head once and reach down to pick up your bowl of berries again, resuming eating them while you allow yourself to relax again the cushions once more. 

"What about you, Connor? You seemed troubled after what happened with the Traci's last night, after you let them go." 

His LED flashes yellow again and he looks away from you quickly, his eyebrows furrowing while he thinks over your question. 

He opens his mouth to speak, pausing for a split second before responding, "I... neglected to shoot that Traci in the alleyway, but I don't understand why..."

You, of course, know the answer to that conundrum right away, but you aren't sure if he'd like what you had to say.

That doesn't stop you from telling him, though.

"Well, they were in _love,_ Connor. She stepped in front of our suspect to keep her from getting hurt, she put her life on the line to protect her. I think... maybe subconsciously, you wanted them to get away."

His LED changes color again, a quick flash of red followed by yellow once more, the soft look in your eyes seemingly affecting him quite a bit.

"But thats impossible; letting them go, it goes directly against my mission- my programming."

He still seems not to understand fully what you're trying to convey to him, but that's okay. It'll take time.

You reach over and grab one of his hands resting in his lap, in your own like he had for you.

"Connor, I'm not trying to confuse you, but, sometimes, we do things that we just can't explain."

His eyes flickered down to your hand clutching his own, then back up to your eyes which are tenderly focused on him.

"But I'm... I'm just a machine, Y/N. I don't subconsciously do _anything,_ it's not in my program." 

You shake your head and start to let his hand go, pausing when you feel him hold onto it a bit harder.

"Alright, alright. I get it. How about we move on? Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?" You don't bother letting his hand go since he physically expressed his desire to hold onto you, but you do scoot a bit closer so you don't have to stretch your arm out towards his lap. 

Connor nods his head slowly, glancing down at your conjoined hands with that same troubled look on his face.

"Yes, actually. Last night, while you were asleep, Hank stopped at a park and we began to discuss some things. He asked me some... uncomfortable questions and held a gun to my head." Uh, what? "And I... admitted that I would not like to be shut down..." 

Your eyebrows knit together at his confession, and you feel a small sense of anger towards Hank for pulling such a stupid stunt.

"Why did he point a gun at you? Why would he do that?" You ask worriedly, your grip tightening on his hand which still has yet to let you go.

"We were talking about those two girls from last night, and he asked me if I was... a deviant. I know it may _seem_ like I've been acting against my programming, but I can assure you that my decisions are logic based and well thought out. I am _not_ a deviant."

You figure it's best not to comment on that, especially since he sounds kinda defensive.

"What do you think it is, then?" You ask him softly, smoothing your thumb out along the back of his hand in, what you hope, is a comforting gesture. 

He purses his lips and his LED spins yellow rapidly, his voice is soft and confused when he responds too, "When... I'm making important decisions regarding the case, when I look at you, when Hank is nice to me, these things all... affect me, and I don't know why. I don't understand _why_ these things happen, but my self-tests provide no results or reasons for this. And thats not even the beginning of it..." He sighs quietly, releasing your hand from his tight grip after a moment so he can adjust his tie. "I shouldn't bother you with my software issues. Forgive me." 

You scoot even closer to him, so that you're less than a foot away, and reach up to place your hand against the side of his face carefully.

His synthetic skin feels so real under your touch, his face radiating its own heat.

You smile up at him, your knee gently pressing into the side of his leg, while you try to comfort him with your words. "You're just trying to find yourself, Connor. I know things aren't easy right now, but I want you to know that I've got your back. Even if it's something I don't necessarily agree with, I'll always be here." You smooth your thumb along his cheekbone gently, then start to retract your hand from his face. Before you pull back, though, you feel his head tilt and press against your hand more firmly.

⇑ (Y/N)

You smile again and lightly rub his cheek, your eyes soft and understanding. "We're all in this together, Connor. It's best that you remember that, okay?" 

He nods his head to show that he get's what you're saying, so you drop your hand back down to your lap and stare at it silently for a moment. 

You decide to be a bit more daring and lean against his side, closing your eyes with nothing but him keeping you from slumping over.

"Thank you, Y/N. You have always been very kind to me, and I appreciate it very much. But...," he tapers off at the end there, seemingly thinking over his next words carefully, "You must take your own advice and realize that Hank and I are also here to ensure you're healthy and happy."

That warms your heart, and, while you probably wont accept any help still, you certainly might think about it.

He leans down and presses a kiss against your cheek again like he had last night, and, while normally you would be embarrassed, you instead just smile and enjoy something for once. 

When he pulls away he looks pleased with himself, most likely because he knew that he succeeded in making you feel better; such a lovely expression, especially since his smile is so nice. 

You clear your throat after looking away sharply, realizing that your staring is entering creepy territory, and close your eyes once again; doing nothing but leaning on him and relaxing.

A thought then suddenly occurs to you.

"I need to go grocery shopping later, Connor. Would you like to come with me?" You don't know what exactly prompted you to invite him, but to say that you wouldn't like some company would be a total lie.

Of course, he _can_ stay and read, especially since you know that he likes to now, but leaving him without a word wouldn't be very nice of you.

"I'd hate to leave you here all by yourself, after all."

He nods his head curtly in response, moving his arm just a bit into a position that makes you feel a lot more comfortable.

"Alright. I can help you carry your bags."

That certainly sounds very helpful indeed.

"Alright, Connor... feel free to finish your book first, though." 

You look up at him fondly, seeing that he's already looking at you which makes your heart jump in your chest. 

There is nothing more that you want then to help him find himself; to help him realize who he really is. And by god, you'll be damned if you don't fight for him with everything that you've got, if just to see him look at you like that again. 

Yeah...

You're in trouble. 

\---

\- (Y/N- Friend)

\- (Hank- Friend)


	12. Don't Go or I'll Stay Up Forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating every day isn't very realistic with my schedule, so I'll be taking a day off here and there so I can have extra time to properly edit my chapters! Maybe I'll adopt an ABAB uploading schedule where I update every other day? Idk yet.  
> I hope that's not a problem, and thanks a million for all the comments and kudos!

Your day with Connor was pretty nice, to say the least.

You took him out with you to shop for groceries, which he insisted that he carry, you bought him a very nice (and cute) tie, and even got _him_ to pay for some coffee for you to enjoy.

It was a nice day off to put it simply.

You didn't feel any negative pressure, and your stress levels were at an all time low. 

You and Connor pull up into the parking lot of your apartment complex, the temperature in the car nice and comfortable; warm. You've got a couple bags full of groceries in the back of your car, and, it's safe to say, that you're exhausted from being out all day. 

It's roughly 7:00 P.M. and the both of you were out all day, so you're glad that the night is finally winding down.

Connor is sitting in the passenger seat to your right, quiet as he observes everything around him, including you when you get out of the car to retrieve some of the groceries.

The back of your car pops open after you press a button on your key, and you go straight for two of the paper bags resting on the floor of your trunk.

The telling sound of another car door opening and closing alerts you to the fact that Connor finally got out, and the sound of his shoes crunching in the snow comes close as he walks the perimeter of the car to come give you a hand.

Without a second thought, Connor leans down and swipes the rest of the bags from the back before you can try to carry any more, but you just let him and settle for closing and locking your car.

"After you, Detective." He switches between calling you 'detective' and your actual name quite a bit, but you can tell that he's making an effort to be more familiar, so you don't complain or correct him too often. 

⇑ (Y/N)

Much like last night, the two of you make your way up the flight of stairs leading to the floor your apartment is located on, the glacial night air causing a chill to run down your spine.

It's only November and you're already freezing your ass off.

You trudge over to your front door and scan your keycard against the reader, and, once you hear that telling 'click' that tells you it's unlocked, you bump it open with your hip.

The much warmer air of your apartment hits you, washing over you in a wave of wonderful heat- a feeling similar to when you take a blanket out of the dryer and it's positively delightful to wrap yourself up in. You can't help but to sigh with relief. 

You step inside, wiping your shoes on the doormat before entering, and head straight towards the kitchen; sure to leave the door open for Connor to enter. You're not so worried about that anymore since nobody is stupid enough to try and barge in with him right there.

You place the bags down on the island counter in the middle of your kitchen, smiling to yourself when you hear the door close and his footsteps approach. Something about not being cooped up all alone in your house is just so... emotionally liberating. 

He follows your lead and sets the bags he's holding down next to the ones you brought, then he turns towards you.

"It's only 7 A.M., but we have to return to work tomorrow. I think you should go to bed sometime in the next few hours." 

You can't help the eye roll upon hearing his 'suggestion.'

He's constantly informing you about different 'courses of action' that you can take to be healthier, but where's the fun in any of that.

"Did Hank put you up to this?" You ask with faux bitterness in your voice, though your expression betrays no such negativity.

"I'm not authorized to discuss that with you." 

⇑ (Hank)

Oh this smartass. 

Unfortunately, you're unable to stop yourself from laughing, and you can't wipe the smile from your face either. 

"Oh? Is that right?" There's a hint of a challenge in the way you ask him that, but he, sadly, doesn't take the bait. 

"Yes." He has a smile of his own, and there are teasing undertones to his responses, but you won't be able to get a one up on this guy. 

This fact prompts you to drop the challenge and just move on to something that'll get you actual results; something, preferably, not boring at that. 

After a moment, you decide it best to start putting your groceries away, so you get right to that and turn your back on him, sorting the bags based on their contents; cold stuff, produce, snacks, etc. 

You shrug your shoulders and trot on over to the couch to take a seat, flopping down horizontally and taking up all the room.

"Eh, I hear you, though...," you trail off thoughtfully, wondering exactly what you can do to pass the rest of the day, when an idea strikes you, "But 'the next few hours' sounds like just enough time to have a few drinks, now, doesn't it?"

Today has been a pretty good day, even considering that not-so-nice trip down memory lane this morning, but maybe a little extra something-something would make you feel even better. 

A drunk sleep is a good sleep, after all. No dreams, no moving and squirming, and no waking up in the middle of the night either. 

You push yourself up from the couch and make your way to the kitchen, stopping in front of your island where all of your alcohol is located. 

The lock clicks satisfyingly when you unlock it, and, when you open it up, it's revealed that you only have a measly few bottles - all of which you got from Hank whether it be from confiscation or gifts. 

You pull out a bottle of whiskey and stand up straight once more, spinning around like a dreidel and closing the cabinet with your foot.

After retrieving a glass from a shelf, you pour a bit of the orangish liquid into it, turning your head to look over at Connor when you hear the couch groan under the weight of someone sitting on it. 

"Were you aware of Lieutenant Hank's... suicidal tendencies, Y/N?"

You pause with the drink halfway to your lips, not having expected those words to leave his mouth so suddenly.

Your head dips down and you feel your chest restrict placed your glass on the counter again, your voice uneasy and stuttery when you acknowledge him. "Y-Yeah... I'm aware, Connor..." The whole reason you act the way you do around Hank is because of this fact, but having it all brought up to the surface so suddenly, hurts. 

"It's because of the death of his son Cole." A statement, not a question. 

You wonder briefly how he knows that, but instead of asking him about it, you just shake your head and dodge the question. "That's not for me to tell you." You don't want to go around telling other people things that are personal to Hank, it's a break of his trust.

Truthfully, you had yourself convinced that you've been helping with Hanks tendencies, but that seems not to be the case after all.

You look down at your feet and sigh deeply, then you raise your glass back up and down it all in one go.

Your good mood is dead, so you could really use a distraction. 

* * *

Half a bottle of whiskey later and you are drunk.

Not terribly so, but still drunk either way.

You're a functional drunk for the most part; primarily because you sparsely get so drunk to the point where you can't do basic things, but, when it does happen, it's usually only on nights following particularly hard cases or other personal issues.

Tonight is one of those nights. 

The reason you stop at half a bottle, however, has nothing to do with your (usually) excellent impulse control; rather, it's because the bottle you're reaching for is, quite literally, snatched away before you can get ahold of it.

You make some incoherent noise of irritation and turn your gaze to look over at Connor, who had finally made an appearance, a sour expression plastered on your face.

"You have late arrival tomorrow, Detective, but I would still have you consider that you _will_ be hungover. I would advise that you abstain from consuming any more alcohol." He states it so matter-of-factly while putting the bottle back in its cupboard, completely ignoring your protesting all the while. 

An attempt is made on your part to retrieve the bottle from the clutches of your, now, nanny-bot, but he evades you easily by lowering his arm - with the bottle - and shutting it away in the cabinet once more. 

Your eyebrows knit together as you grab at his arm, a pathetic argument being made by you in the mean time, "Nooo, Connor, give it back! You're not my mom!"

He stands up straight after storing the half empty bottle and looks down at you, letting you pull on him while you complain and whine like some sort of child.

"It has been approximately two hours and thirty minutes since the last time I suggested you go to sleep. Please come with me, Detective, and I'll help you get to bed."

You let out an airy laugh, mostly from your intoxication, and shake your head.

"At least take me out to dinner first." You laugh again, this time at your own joke, and rub at your eyes, leaning all your weight on him despite your protesting and resisting 5 seconds prior. 

You hear, but don't exactly process, a sigh coming from above you, but your hazy mind doesn't comment.

The two of you move along to a glass of water that miraculously appeared on the counter between now and, like, 5 minutes ago.

Connor plucks the shiny glass from the flat surface, his left arm wrapped around your waist gently so as to not squeeze you too tight or whatever.

"Open you mouth, Y/N, and drink the water, please. The Lieutenant will not be happy with me if I allow you to go to bed dehydrated."

You squirm around for about 2 seconds before you, ultimately, accept the water and drink it all in just a few gulps. Apparently, you're parched, but you just didn't notice until now.

Once Connor is satisfied that you've had enough water, he hauls you along rather easily to your room, bringing you straight to your bed; then, he turns and steps up to your closet once you're seated.

"Just stay there, I'll bring you clothes to change into." He says this when you attempt to stand up on your own, his voice taking on a, surprisingly, authoritative tone. This must be how he dealt with Hank last night. 

You flop onto your back, staying quiet while he looks through your closet for pjs that you can wear with your eyes on him the whole time. 

Something you've noticed is that he always wears the same thing; but is it always the _exact_ same outfit, or does he have multiple pairs of the same android jacket and business jeans? Also, why does he wear business jeans? Aren't those for hooligans like you, Hank, and Gavin? Why doesn't he have some cool grey android pants to match his grey android jacket? 

"My clothes were specifically picked out to help facilitate my integration into both a social _and_ practical working environment, something I mentioned to you and Hank once before." 

Woah, you really said all that out loud? 

"Yes. I wasn't aware that you hadn't meant to. I'm sorry." He doesn't sound apologetic. 

Connor returns a few moments later with a t-shirt and shorts draped over his forearm; the shirt is white and has a cute print of a puppy and kitten cuddling (a gift from Chris), and the shorts are just that, short... and also dark blue.

"Here you go, Y/N. I will get your toothbrush prepared in your bathroom while you change." He doesn't leave a chance for you to argue once more because he tosses the clothes onto your head and disappears though your bathroom door before you can even open your mouth.

You sigh over dramatically and sit back up, the shirt and shorts dropping down to your lap while you stare at them for a moment; as if you were willing them to put themselves on you.

For a moment there you sway slightly, but that passes not long after long enough for you to assess your objective.

You slowly pull your current clothes off, your vision blurring every now and then when you move to quickly from your intoxication, dispensing each discarded piece onto the floor or bed haphazardly. 

It doesn't take you long to change into your new set of clothes; though, you do put your shirt on backwards unknowingly.

Connor walks back out a few moments after you finish getting changed, small traces of water on his hands from preparing your toothbrush. 

You look up at him, your cheeks still dusted red from drinking, and let him in on your discontent. "I don't want to go to bed, and you can't make me." You can be childish when you drink excessively, and it's really showing through right now. 

"Are you aware that you put your shirt on backwards, Y/N?" He asks with furrowed eyebrows, placing his hands down on your shoulders to steady you. 

His words give you a pause, and, when you look down, you see that he's exactly right. 

You reach up and try to turn your shirt with your arms still through the holes, forgetting that you can't turn anything with them in the way, 

Connor squeezes your shoulders to get you to stop squirming, which you do, then he directs you patiently, "Pull your arms in first, and then we can fix it." 

You do just that. 

Once your arms are out of the way, Connor fists the fabric of your shirt and turns it in one swift motion. 

"There you are. Now, it's best if you brush your teeth before you go to bed." As he says this he leans down and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you up to your feet despite your struggling and denial of wanting his help. 

"Stoppp." You grumble, purposefully going limp in his arms so that he might just drop you. 

He doesn't pay your complaints any mind, however, and instead pulls you back up. "You're only making this more difficult. You need to clean your teeth to prevent any sort of damage caused by all caffeine and sugars you may have consumed today."

His matter of fact tone and words make you groan, but you stop being difficult finally and let him bring you to the bathroom.

You're already starting to show signs of a headache after drinking that water, so, when he brings you in, you take a seat on the side of the bathtub and dig the heel of your hands into your eye sockets.

He brings you your toothbrush, handing it down to you once you drop your hands to look up at him; it only takes you a few minutes to properly brush your teeth, luckily, and he stands by your side all the while. 

After you rinse your mouth, he helps you back to your bed and eases you down to sit on the edge of your bed again.

"It's 9:43 P.M., Y/N. I'll leave you to sleep now."

You yawn sleepily and grab his left arm before he can step away, a tired look on your face.

He looks down at you upon meeting resistance, his head tilting to the side a bit with an unspoken question displayed in form of his expression. "Is everything alright?" He asks you quietly, verbalizing his perplexity, probably aware of your on coming headache.

You nod your head but say nothing, tugging downwards so he'll come to your eye level.

Upon your physical insistence, he crouches down with that same confusion on his face, waiting for your explanation.

You close your eyes and press your lips against his cheek, still holding onto his arm to keep yourself steady. You pull away after a few moments, catching a glimpse of his LED changing color.

It's such a nice feeling, giving him a kiss on the cheek, though you aren't quite sure why you like it so much. Maybe it's the fact that you like him, or maybe it has to do with the fact that positive physical contact has become something you crave in recent years; but whatever the reason is, the fact remains. You like it. 

He offers you another one of his sweet smiles, his hands returning to your shoulders before he lightly pushes you down onto your back. "Good night, Y/N." He rests his hand on your forehead carefully, not really knowing why he does so, before turning around to leave the room.

Right when he reaches the door to leave your room, though, you sit up and call petulantly, "I won't go to sleep if you go away!"

He freezes in place for a good few seconds before turning his head to look back at you, immediately seeing your attempts to get out of bed. "You want me to stay here?" He asks slowly, willing you to stop trying to get up with his expression alone. 

"Yes." 

"And you won't go to sleep unless I stay?" 

"Nope." 

The distrust shows clearly on his face, so he opts to make you swear to your word. "Do you promise to sleep if I abide by your wishes?" 

"Mhm, I promise!" You agree to it all too easily, your not-so-sober, tired mind clouding your judgement and encouraging you to say things that you'd normally be mortified about admitting. 

He seems to think on it for some time, but he, ultimately, nods his assent. "Alright. I'll stay here- but if you don't go to sleep like you promised then I will be forced to suggest to Hank that he should confiscate any and all alcohol in your apartment."

You have no mischievous reply or whiny complaint for that one, so you just stay silent, watching him with droopy eyes as he approaches.

Connor takes a seat on the side of your bed right next to you, thus making you smile since you got what you want.

You flop down and onto your back again while he just sits there, your eyes closing moments later.

Since you're drunk you don't even think twice about acting out on your romantic interest towards him, a fact that 'tomorrow Y/N' will find mortifying. Oh, you're definitely going to be a wreck when you wake up in the morning. 

After a moment of laying there with Connor sitting right next to you, he turns his upper body and brings his legs up onto the bed, stretching them out in front of him in what you assume is an attempt to get more comfortable. He, of course, is still sitting up all proper and straight even after he stretches out. 

You peek at him when he starts to move around, wanting to see what exactly he's doing.

A thick haze poisons your mind and actions because of your lack of sobriety, meaning you don't exactly have the best impulse control at the moment. This is why, a few moments after he moves, you move as well.

You place your head in his lap with the top of your head pressing against his stomach and your cheek resting on his thigh; one of your arms moves up to lay beside your head just above his knee as well, your fingers curling around his leg. You don't see it because your eyes are shut again, but his LED turns red for a moment and he looks slightly lost.

He doesn't move to push you off despite his uncertainty; instead you feel a light touch on your shoulder that stays there until you finally fall to sleep like promised you would. 

⇑ (Y/N)

He isn't quite sure why he doesn't push you away or flee as soon as you leave, something is just tethering him here at this spot- something he can't shake or even define. 

What's most surprising, however, is the fact that he doesn't _want_ to leave either; not just because you asked him to stay.

Even the mere thought of getting up and going right now is unimaginable, because he want's to be here, wants to continue to relish in the fact that you trust him enough to care for you in such a vulnerable state. Maybe it's that odd sense of duty to keep you safe that Hank instilled in him. 

Or maybe it's something more 

\---

⇑ (Y/N- Friend)

\- (Hank- Friend) 


	13. I Don't Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been waiting for this moment-  
> The next 10 or so chapters are going to be very exciting.  
> Also, has anyone else been playing Animal Crossing New Horizons? That shit's amazing.

The first thing you register the next morning in your hazy sleep addled mind, is the undeniably comfortable and wonderfully warm sense of serenity engulfing you. 

The best way to describe it is _perfect_. 

You feel warm and safe, and very _very_ cozy. So much so that, as you're fully waking up, you move even closer to that nice and comforting weight on your upper half, your arms squeezing the big toasty mass next to you which has a gentle hold on you in response.

But then it finally occurs to you that there isn't supposed to be anyone else in your bed other than _you_.

Your eyes snap open while you try to rationalize this is your mind, but you sure as hell don't remember getting yourself a full body pillow or inviting anyone over.

You look ahead first, studying your surrounds to make sure you really are at home, and the first things you see are a crumpled white shirt, and the familiar (color) walls of your bedroom.

Mentally, you breathe a sigh of relief, but then you start to panic again since you most definitely do _not_ remember inviting anyone to your room last night.

You tilt your head up slowly, fully expecting that you're going to have to kick someones ass, and are immediately bombarded with a shocking sight. 

There sits good ole Connor boy with a book in his free hand and his other arm wrapped securely around you; meanwhile, your own arms are resting nice and comfortably on his midsection.

It really is a sight to behold, because _wow_ this is surely something you never thought you'd come to see; for more reasons than one. 

After your little revelation and internal moment of gawking, you only have one question for yourself.

What the fuck did you do while you were drunk last night?

Connor seems rather engrossed in the book resting open in his free hand, so much so that he doesn't notice your inquiring gaze or troubled expression.

You, as calmly as you can, begin assessing the situation.

There isn't very much you can remember at the moment from the night before, though it'll definitely come back to you eventually, your head is hurting, Connor is _cuddling_ in _bed_ with _you_ , and you're wearing different clothes than you were before you started drinking. 

Another once over of the brown-haired mandroid reveals that his tie has been removed for once, and his shoes are gone too, proof from the black socks in your view. 

When you look down at his feet your cheek presses against the soft fabric of his button up, another nice feeling that you can certainly get use to, but, more than anything, you're glad that he took his shoes off. Who knows what kind of evidence he's stepped in, in those things. 

Slowly but surely, you flicker your gaze back up to look at Connor's face again, only this time he's looking down at you in return.

You feel heat rise up to your face almost instantly, I mean what the hell are you supposed to do in this situation? What is _anyone_ supposed to do in this situation? 

He has a smile on his face though, and he doesn't seem to be upset (which is ultimately a great sign), but still you're a bit wary.

"C-Connor." You can't seems to think of anything else to say other than his name, no semblance of your usual witty self present in this moment. Hopefully, he won't notice your distress.

"Good morning, Y/N. Is my presence troubling you?" Yeah, he definitely noticed. "You see, last night, when you refused to go to sleep unless I stayed, I took a seat upon your insistence and you found comfort in laying your head on my legs. I believed you to be uncomfortable from the bent position of your neck, so I thought it appropriate for me to change our arrangement."

Oh god, you can't even function with all these waves of embarrassment and shame washing over you. Honestly, what is _wrong_ with you? 

"I-I'm so sorry Connor, I, er, didn't mean to..." You pause, sighing heavily since you know there's no excuse that'll save you from this. Your sheepish gaze returns to Connor who's still looking at you curiously. 

"I didn't mind at all, Y/N. It was quite relaxing, actually. I read the book you left on your nightstand and took this opportunity to observe your sleeping habits as well as remove my shoes and tie."

Good lord. He didn't mind? That you? Slept? On him?

A part of you is actually really relieved that he has no complaints about your behavior, mainly because of how horrible it would've been if he _was_ actually uncomfortable with your sort-of advances from last night. 

"We should do it again sometime."

Y/N.exe has stopped working.

If you were drinking something at this moment you definitely would've choked to death. Not only does it sound really fucking tempting, but his sweet expression when he says it is enough to make you swoon. 

You recover from that thought in adequate time, because you realize that some might perceive this as you taking advantage of his naivety.

"Y-Yeah, maybe...," You finally gain enough sense to sit up and reply, reaching up to rub your eyes gently.

Connor doesn't move, though, other than putting the book back on the nightstand.

"As I mentioned last night, you have late arrival today. I turned your alarm clock off so you could sleep in, and it is currently 1:36 P.M."

Wait wait wait. Did you hear that right? 1:36 _P.M.?_

You never _ever_ sleep in this late, so there has to be something wrong here; that or maybe it has something to do with Connor being there with you all night... there's no way to tell for sure. 

You decide to go ahead and laugh it off, hoping that faking confidence and composure will make it a reality. "Wow. No wonder I'm so hungry, huh?" Of course the humor goes right over his head.

As soon as you finish that thought, he gets up and places his hand down on your shoulder. "Alright. I'll prepare something for you to eat then."

You can't even mutter out a thanks before he's out the door and heading to, probably, the kitchen to complete the task he just assigned himself. 

Since he's gone, you go ahead and start to get yourself ready for the day, mainly because you know that you'll have to head into work sooner or later.

You put on your usual work clothes, a button up and movable working pants/jeans, then freshen yourself up in the bathroom per your usual morning routine; except this time it's the afternoon instead of the morning. 

One bathroom trip later, and you're waltzing out of your room with minty breath, brushed hair, and a clean, moisturized face. 

You walk out of the room only a few minutes after Connor left, your ears perking up at the sound of glass clanking down on your granite counter.

Your head turn towards the source of the sound almost on instinct, and a beautiful bowl of cereal with your name all over it is the first thing you see.

Connor is standing next to that wonderful ceramic bowl containing your sustenance for the day, noticing the milk and cereal box already put away in their original homes after a quick glance around the kitchen. 

The carpeted floor cuts off to tile once you enter your kitchen, the sudden change in floor allowing you to slide on up to Connor and the island counter. Unfortunately, you grossly overestimate how much runway you have before sliding across the floor, so you knock right into the brown-haired man's side with no semblance of control over yourself, orThe Slide™.

He catches you before you can topple over into a heap on the floor, thus saving you from getting hurt _and_ any embarrassment that would ensue due to your failed attempt at being cool. 

He steadies you with his hands on your shoulders, his LED flashing red, then yellow, before returning to it's normal soft blue. 

"Holy crap- I'm so sorry." You gasp, reaching up to fix his tie and smooth out his shirt. 

"It's alright, Y/N. You're not hurt, are you?" Oh, sweet Connor. More worried about you when you could've knocked him off his feet (you actually couldn't).

Instead of a verbal reply, you just shake your head no and swipe the cereal from the counter, patting his shoulder gently with your gaze trained on his face for a few additional moments; after you begin to look at him for a bit _too_ long, you walk past and towards the table.

The chair squeaks when you pull it across the tiles, an annoying scraping noise reaching your ears while you do as such, but you pay it no mind and just take a seat; you're used to it by now. 

Once you're situated, you pat at the seat next to you so Connor can join you.

A few spoon full's later and the chair you gestured to is pulled out and now occupied by Connor boy.

You turn your head towards his direction and smile, glad that he took your invitation without fuss or hesitation, when a thought strikes you suddenly.

You point your finger over to the nice TV sitting in front of your couch, asking a little too excitedly. "Hey, can you turn that on with your mind?"

He cocks his head to the side at your words, his eyebrows knitting together while he thinks your question through. "I... can turn it on using my software, not necessarily my mind, but yes."

One second he's answering your question, and the next your TV is turning onto the news, which you always leave on.

It's 1:46 now, and you have to head into work in the next hour or so, unfortunately. 

Good god, you really don't wanna fulfill your professional obligations today - you just want to stay at home, kick back, relax, and enjoy the rest of your day _peacefully_. 

Your wishful thoughts about not returning to work and staying home are interrupted when the news anchor on the TV says the words, "We interrupt our scheduled programming to bring you these images, which have just been broadcast on Detroit's city-wide news channel..."

Your eyebrows furrow and you look over sharply at the screen, seeing three parachutes flying off the roof of the Stratford broadcasting tower playing on the screen.

The anchor then goes on to talk about reports of a group of androids _infiltrating_ _the_ _tower_. It doesn't make any sense; no deviants have ever done anything as organized or sophisticated as this as of yet, but here you are right here, right now, watching their escape play out right in front of you. 

You glance over at Connor for a moment, then you push away from the table and speed walk into the living room, swiping the remote to change the channel to see if you can find anything else. 

After skipping through 2 or so channels and taking a seat, a porcelain white face appears on the screen (obviously an android). This channel is replaying the message recorded by the androids, his voice and skinless appearance not resembling any sort of android you've seen before. It's possible that he could be a prototype like Connor.

"We ask that you recognize our dignity, our hopes, and our rights.Together, we can live in peace and build a better future, for humans _and_ androids." He pauses for no more than a second, "This message is the hope of a people. You gave us life. And now the time has come for you to give us our freedom." 

The blonde anchor then goes on to talk about how this is 'nothing short of terrorism' and that 'our tech is turning against us'; they don't even acknowledge their pleas for freedom, rather they just slap them with a label and call them domestic terrorists. 

She reports that nobody died; nobody was fatally injured; and nobody was horribly hurt.

How is it that they can accuse them of such heinous intentions in light of these circumstances? 

They're only asking for freedom, and you have no problem with that whatsoever - no one should.

You rub at the back of you head and lean back in your spot on the couch, a troubled expression passing over your features.

This was obviously the work of deviant androids, though you're not quite sure how they managed to pull it off _and_ make it out alive.

One thing is for sure, you're definitely going to be called in for this case; it has to do with deviants after all. 

This thought reminds you of Connor, who, last you checked, is still sitting in the breakfast nook. One quick glance back, however, shows you that he's actually seated next to you now, most likely having joined you while you were engrossed in the news and your mind. 

Connor's still focused on the news, analyzing the message on screen while you watch him.

He's sitting up straight with his hands resting in his lap, his preferred seated position, and his undivided attention is pointed at the TV. He chose to sit right next t you, close enough that your leg presses into his and his side is but a hairsbreadth away from yours.

Suddenly, he starts to rapidly blink, and, you're assuming, his LED has turned yellow (you're on his left side) because of what he says moments after. "We've just been assigned to this case, though, judging from your expression, I believe you expected that."

You just nod your head, sighing mostly to yourself since this isn't where you were expecting your day to go.

"What time do we have to be there?" Hopefully they don't need you right this instant.

"They need time to properly prepare the crime scene, but I was told that arrival around 4 would be sufficient."

Well, that's a relief.

You brush your hair back and relax against the cushions again, looking up at the ceiling while you tilt your head back.

"Alright. We should pick up Hank in about thirty minutes, then. Um, do you think you're up for trying on that tie we picked out yesterday? You don't have to wear it around but... I'd like to see it on you."

He smiles and nods his head before you even finish speaking, noticing your sheepish demeanor. "Alright, I would very much like to wear it today. Thank you for getting it for me."

⇑ (Y/N)

You lean into his side, not even aware of your casual view on being all touchy with him at this point, and deny his gratitude. "You don't have to thank me, Connor. It's normal to treat your friends to things." 

You do your best to hide your insecurity, and succeed in this since you get up and head to your room to grab the new tie. You don't have to hide anything if nobody can see it. 

The tie is, at it's base, black, but when it catches the light there is a series of lovely paisley-like patterns that cover it; shining grey with light while presenting a darker shade of black in the absence of it.

Personally, you think it's pretty damn schnazzy. 

You return with it a minute or so later, and, when you reappear, Connor straightens up further so it could be put on, his original tie now discarded on the coffee table with the collar of his shirt slightly flared.

The sight makes you smile, because _god_ he's so cute.

Instead of consigning it over for him to put on, however, you opt to do it yourself and lean down, gently placing it around his neck beneath the white collar of his button-up.

"I've got it. You've done so much for me already, and I'm already holding it- I might as well." You leave no time for him to protest since right after you speak you begin to carefully loop and tie it until it's done almost perfectly, your fingers steady and breathing even all the while. 

You straighten it out, then gently smooth your hand down along the tie, and, consequently, his chest to make sure it's flush against his shirt.

The moment is oddly... intimate; even though you're only tying a little knot around his neck. It's most likely attributed to the close proximity of his face to your face, and, perhaps, the fact that your hand is pressed against his chest. 

You let your fingers linger for a moment, moving them back and fourth slowly along the silk of the tie with your attention caught on the movement of your own hand.

You don't even realize what you're doing really, it just feels nice (and super right).

It's like you're stuck between wanting to stay and needing to pull away, your longing heart and common sense fighting for control over your mind. 

You only pause when Connor's own hand moves up to grab your own which is still splayed out on his chest, an action you had not been anticipating. 

You look up sharply, his new hold on you ripping the dilema of whether to stay or move from your grasp and bringing you out of your stupor, with embarrassment evident on your face.

The apology shoots from your lips before you can do anything else. "S-Sorry Connor. I guess I got.. um, uh-" It was almost like you fell into on of your dazes again, but there was something much _different_ about this particular mental disruption; and the cause of this is because he has started to gently massage your hand in his own, and ohmygodhe'slookingrightintoyoureyes-

⇑ (Y/N)

He gaze holds an intensity that you've never seen on him before, but it isn't one with malice or anger, but a soft intensity that takes your breath away and leaves your doubt and good judgement stranded in a faraway place.

You inhale sharply and stare right back at him, offering no further verbalization of your lame excuses.

And then, suddenly, his face is right in front of yours, and you're leaning in; and his eyes are closing, and then so are yours. 

⇑ (Y/N)

Your hand is still clutched in his gentle hold, but your standing position is compromised because, now, you're being tugged slightly downward and your knee comes down to rest between his legs, your other one slightly bent but still on the ground.

His hand, the one not grasping yours, reaches up and rests on the back of your head, and his lips feel so wonderful pressed against your own. 

The kiss is slow and, oddly enough, sweet, and his lips feel so _real_ and _warm_. 

Your free hand presses gently against his cheek, your palm cupping his jaw with your thumb smoothing out along his cheekbone tenderly.

It's a fairytale like moment where everything is perfect and all of the crazy variables around the two of you are moot; there is no Stratford Tower investigation, murders, or deviants- just you two.

Connor is the first to pull back, but he doesn't jerk away or appear panicky or frantic; rather he seems confused and conflicted almost.

Your eyes flutter open when his hand drops from your hair and the absence of his lips leave yours cold, his hand still clutching yours tightly even as he unwinds from you in every other way. 

You continue to run your thumb across his cheekbone, a tender, soft expression on your face as you practically stare each other down. 

It's completely silent aside from the sound of the TV playing in the background and your soft breathing, a fact you're not complaining about. 

You know what this means but you're certain that he doesn't. He's going to need time to think, so you remove your hand from his face carefully and return it to your side, giving him a reassuring smile.

"Don't second guess yourself, Connor... I care about you very much, and I can tell that you need more time to think, so I'll back off and give you that time..." You trail off since you're not quite sure what else to say; you don't like the reality of your words, but you have to abide by them regardless. "I'll go get the car warmed up, and then we can then go pick up Hank."

Here you go running away again once things get complicated. Hopefully, it'll do him so good even if it's an opportunity presented from your weakness. 

You reach down and gently rub his cheek again for a few moments, then you turn and walk over to your front door. 

You grab your big coat while slipping on your boots, pushing your arms out through the holes of your jacket while the boots slide right on. 

The door clicks open upon you unlocking it, and, without further ado, you head out towards your car with your mind reeling along the way. 

He had kissed you, and it was tender, sweet, and much warmer than you had thought it would be.

His lips were soft and they felt real, not plasticky or rubbery or anything weird like that, and it was just so perfect. And, to add onto that fact, he also kissed you first, something you never thought would happen. _Ever._ Even though you didn't expect it, however, doesn't mean it makes you any less happy or hopeful. 

This will change everything, be it now, or sometime in the near future. 

* * *

The car ride to pick up Hank was mostly quiet, but not as awkward as you had anticipated that it would be.

When the two of you arrive, you put the car in park and turn your head towards Connor and ask, "Do you wanna go get him? I'd imagine he's getting over another hangover and I'd rather not deal with that right now..." You trail off and stress at your bottom lip with your teeth, turning your head to the side to look at him.

He seems to understand the unspoken reason behind not wanting to get out, because he nods and opens up the car door without stalling.

⇑ (Hank)

"Oh! Say hi to Sumo for me, Connor!" You chime before the passenger door closes.

Connor smiles at that, probably because he likes dogs, then he turns and walks up to Hanks front door.

You lean your head back against the headrest and close your eyes; you're going to have to wait at least 20 minutes before Hank will be ready, but you can wait 20 minutes. 

And, as it turns out, you're right, because a little more than 20 minutes later (maybe around 28), both of them emerge from the house. 

Hank is looking nice and spiffy, and Connor looks nothing short of happy. You can only assume this is attributed to the possibility that Hank didn't fight him on getting dressed and ready for the investigation. 

You're finally going to drive them around instead of the other way around, which means you get to stay in the front seat for once.

They both get in after you unlock the door, Connor sliding into the back seat behind you and Hank climbing in next to you.

You turn your head towards Hank who, got in first, with a sweet smile adorning your face and a happy jingle to your voice. "Hank, I've got pain meds in the glove compartment if you need them."

He groans upon hearing your indirect offer, probably because he drank the night before like you assumed prior.

"Thanks kid..." He grumbles gruffly, opening up said glove compartment in search of those pills you offered.

Since he's accepting your offer, you grab your water bottle and hand it to him as you pull away from the front of his house, glancing at your GPS to get an approximate on the Stratford Tower. 

The ride to the 'crime scene' is nice.

Quiet, comfortable, and smooth... and then you arrive at the Stratford Tower.

It's a complete fucking mess with police cars everywhere, tenfold the amount of reporters in comparison to the police men and women.

You groan upon seeing the cluster-fuck that is the Stratford Tower parking lot, trying to find a proper spot to pull into; but that shit just isn't working, so you start to drive through the crowd, albeit slowly, in an attempt to find somewhere, _anywhere_ to park your car.

And then you see it; a lovely parallel parking spot right in front of the building.

You pull in and release a relieved sigh, but, unfortunately, that was only part one of Operation Enter the Crime Scene.

If you thought parking was hard, then getting out of your car from point A to point B is freaking _impossible_. 

Immediately reporters are in your face, microphones and cameras pinning you to your car while, what sounds like, a million voices bombard you with questions and lots of yelling and pleading for some small bit of information.

The annoyance is evident on your face, and, from the tone of Hank's voice just behind you, you can tell that he's frustrated too.

These damn vultures never know when to quit, but yelling won't solve your problems. 

It doesn't hurt to try, though. 

"Get out of my face! I've got nothing to disclose!" You shout in an attempt to beat the loud voices washing over you, pushing someone lightly out of your way so that you can, hopefully, try and get around your car.

Connor follows close behind you, having gotten out on the same side of the car as you, with one of his hands on the small of your back to help guide you through the crowd. His ability to depute the best paths and find bald/weak points in the sea of people with his statistical thinking is certainly helpful, because he manages to break through with you and Hank in an okay amount of time. 

When you three finally get into the damn building, you briefly long to be back at home to avoid this mess.

It's almost as chaotic inside as it is outside, and that's really saying something. 

The more privileged reporters, the ones from bigger news outlets lucky to be allowed inside, are a little less brutal in their questioning and give you guys some space; meanwhile, police officers and androids try their best to keep anyone unauthorized from slipping through the police 'tape' and into the main area leading to the elevator.

You storm right past, ignoring any and all inquiries from the press, and head straight to the elevator with your two boys trailing just behind you.

They, of course, don't ask you to slow down or try to break you out of your determined path towards the lift, something you're very grateful for. 

You guys get in unscathed thankfully, and, once all three of you are situated, you go ahead and press the button for the 79th floor.

You don't even want to think about just how high up that is, because if you do, you'll probably freak out. 

It's about 4:06 P.M. as the elevator steadily and slowly glides it way on up to the top; oh how time flies when you're having fun... or when you're being bombarded by those vultures you know as the media.

You stand behind Hank and Connor since you entered the elevator first, leaning back against the wall with your arms crossed and your shoulders slumped forward. 

It's hard to focus since you're still slightly... distracted by what went down earlier in your living room. 

Hank stands there, pretty still and straight, while Connor is shifting and moving around quite a bit, an ironic fact since it's usually the other way around.

He's doing those awesome coin tricks that you have, you're ashamed to admit, tried to do yourself on a few occasions. You even tried watching some tutorials about it, but it's just too difficult. He twirls it on his fingers, throws it back and fourth, and, somehow, makes it glide along his knuckles. It's almost as if he is one with the coin, like they are one in the same.

It really is entrancing, though, Hank doesn't appear to agree with your sentiments.

Hank suddenly snatches the coin from Connor's left hand, his irritation carrying over into both his voice and body language. "You're starting to piss me off with that coin, Connor."

You watch as Hank pockets the coin, grumbling under his breath some more.

While you seem annoyed at Hank for being so tough on him, Connor looks more... offended? Hurt? Maybe upset; but he doesn't say anything other than, "Sorry Lieutenant", in a confused-hurt tone that tugs at your fragile heartstrings. 

You don't even get a chance to scold him, though, because the elevator doors slide open before you can so much as take in a breath to speak. 

The first thing you notice upon entry is that it's a damn mess just like it was downstairs, only less crowded. 

There are bullet holes, still lots of people (even if not a crowd), and Collins is standing there with his clipboard and his dull typical dull voice.

This is going to be a _long_ investigation, and an even longer day, especially since you're going to be spending the whole day running around trying to stop the very people that you want to succeed. 

As much as you want to see them reach their goals and gain their freedom, however, you're still not 100% sure if you're ready to give up your badge for the cause.

You just not sure yet; one thing you are sure about, though, is that you want to help Connor. After what happened today with that _kiss_ you're even more sure that there's more to him than his code, and you plan on showing him as such - no matter what. 

\---

⇑ (Y/N- Companion) 

\- (Hank- Friend) 


	14. Traumatized

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Simon ;-;  
> I love him so much, and I really considered changing this scene to the kitchen one cause I don't want him to die, but then I'd have to change LOTS of other things- plus, this is a great source of character development for him so I just had to grit my teeth and keep going.  
> Also, I'm running so late on updates- I'm so sorry.

You and Hank exit the elevator first, even though you're standing behind him and Connor, and Chris immediately greets the two of you. "Hi Hank, Y/N."

You offer a smile and nod of acknowledgement and Hank does the same - only he also adds, "Shit, what's going on here? There was a party and nobody told us about it?"

Normally, you would roll your eyes and tell him to chill the sass, but he's trying to lighten the mood so you appreciate his attempt.

Chris speaks up again while you brush past, mentioning the broadcast the deviants transmitted from the tower.

You kinda push what they're saying to the back of your mind, your attention only returning at the mention of the FBI being here.

Great. 

You turn your head and gave Hank a look, a knowing one at that that displays just how _happy_ you are to have these self-righteous fucking _idiots_ here on your crime scene _._

Those FBI snobs think their jobs and credentials make their jobs _better_ and more _important_ than those of the men and women in blue , not to mention they're extremely territorial over 'their' investigations; and by 'their investigations' you mean the ones that are all but solved by the police and then forked over to those damn vultures.

They're worse than the damn media. 

Chris walks along the hall with you and Hank hot on his heels, debriefing you both on the details of what went down here.

It all sounds pretty suspicious, and you know Hank is catching onto that too.

Connor walks ahead and observes the door, the camera, and the area where the knocked out guards were, though he doesn't show any outward signs of recognition or having found anything. 

He asks about the camera, mentioning how the crew inside would've seen what was going on, a fact that perturbs you.

"Well, maybe they didn't check the cameras." Hank tries to rationalize it, but you can tell from his voice that he doesn't believe it either. 

You reach up and rub the back of your neck, heading into the main room with Hank next to you and Connor right behind you both.

There's a small, rat-like man standing in front of a large screen with the porcelain face of the deviant who gave the message.

You tilt you head to the side a bit, eyeing him distrustfully as Chris introduces this FBI agent. "Oh, Lieutenant, this is Special Agent Perkins from the FBI."

The man rotates his head towards the four of you, his facial expression quite unpleasant as his gaze skims over you and Hank.

"Lieutenant Anderson and Detective L/N are in charge of investigating for the Detroit Police." Chris introduces you guys in turn, but neither of you say anything or verbally greet him.

Hank stares Perkins down with a slightly annoyed expression on his face, like he'd rather be doing anything else than meeting this guy, but you decide to be courteous and offer up an acknowledging smile.

He doesn't return the recognition, of course; instead flicks his head towards Connor who flanks you and Hank.

"What's that?" He sounds uninterested and he holds himself in a confident but also standoffish way.

You and Hank have no chance to answer, because Connor himself is already on it, "My name is Connor. I'm the android sent by Cyberlife." 

That brings a fond little memory to your mind from the first time you met him; the first time you lay eyes upon that adorable tuff of hair that hangs in front of his forehead and saw his sweet face. 

Any and all positive memories of your first meeting with Connor fly right out the window when Perkins finally addresses you and Hank.

"Androids investigating androids, huh?" He pauses and throws a smug smirk over at you and Hank, an expression that you don't like. "You sure you want an android hanging around? After everything that happened?" That knowing look he gives Hank when he says that makes your blood boil, makes you want to smash his face in with your freaking foot.

Hank says nothing, though, so you force yourself to stay quiet as well and just fume silently.

"Whatever, the FBI will take over the investigation, you'll soon be off the case." 

You're sure Hank is going to fire back with something witty and awesome, but instead he just shakes his head and steps back, "Pleasuring meeting you. Have a nice day."

To say you're disappointed would be an understatement- because you really wanted to see that asshole put in his place. 

You scoff and cross your arms over your chest, "Can't say the same..." You hold your tongue to avoid saying anything else, totally content with remaining silent, but while you move to follow Hank, Perkins speaks up again.

"And watch your step. Don't fuck up my crime scene."

Chris walks past hurriedly after Perkins opens his mouth again, no doubt noticing the anger radiating off of you in waves and the look Hanks' face; smart man.

You can't help the pure rage coursing through your veins at this very moment. He has the audacity to allude to Hank's son like that- and then he proceeds to tell _you guys_ not to fuck up _his_ crime scene? You want nothing more then to punch him right in the fucking face, maybe deck his ratty ass off the building, but your anger dissipates almost all at once when a heavy hand pats at your back.

Your head swivels around to see who it was, eyes meeting Hank standing there with relaxed features and an even voice.

"Just forget it, kid. No point in getting in trouble for a prick like that."

Of course, you know he's right and all, but he has no right to speak to him like that!

You let out a heavy and irritated sounding breath, but you don't argue or try to justify your violent thoughts and instead just agree. "Right... I'll just... go have a walk around then." After you speak, you pull away and walk off a bit faster than you intended. 

Looking at some of the physical evidence might help to clear your head, so that's exactly what you go to do. 

Your first stop is one of the walls with bullet holes littering throughout, but. you can't seem to bring yourself to focus on what's in front of you.

A grim expression passes over your face, though it has nothing to do with the crime that went down here.

You definitely don't want to be taken off the case, but with the direction things are going, you're beginning to think it's a matter of when rather than if.

The thought of going back to normal homicide when you're _so close_ to getting a grasp on what's going on here is not high on your list of things you want- in fact, it doesn't make that list at all. 

Connor would probably have to go back to CyberLife, Hank's depression will become more prominent since you all failed, and it's possible that you could be demoted or removed as Hank's partner. None of these things will _for sure_ happen, but there's a strong possibility; a painfully _high_ possibility. 

You can't let that happen, but you know that it's pertinent that you all figure something out soon, otherwise that asshole Perkins will end up taking over. 

You reach up and glide your finger tips carefully over the bullet holes littering along the wall, listening to the message a second time as it plays on the large screen.

There are distractions everywhere and in many forms, but you manage to push all of those away and focus on what you have right here.

The holes create a path of sorts that lead to the roof stairs, and, upon looking into one of them, you see the remnants of squished bullets and shavings of metal from the wall inside and around the hole. Those holes are sharp and ragged, of course, so much so that you almost cut yourself while touching them. 

They're like little black buttons, you know, if buttons were deadly and could shoot off at 1,700 miles per hour. 

You follow the path of holes until you come upon a splatter of blue blood.

It looks like it's drying, and the color is so vibrant it could be glowing... also, it looks like blue raspberry.

Does blue blood taste like blue raspberry? Hm.

You turn your head after a few moments to catch a glimpse of Hank and/or Connor, seeing the two of them standing in front of that huge screen and discussing the video. Nothing particularly eye catching, so you decide to take a peek into that back room; was it a kitchen? 

You allow your eyes to wander on your way to the kitchen, though there isn't anything particularly interesting.

The doorway to that back room is like any other doorway, nothing cool or crazy, and there's three androids lined up at the right side of the room. 

All three of them are the same model, so they look the exact same. What Connor said earlier suddenly pops into your mind. 

Someone let them in even after seeing what was going on outside, and there was no way it was one of the humans. 

This means that one of these androids is a deviant. 

Your eyebrows knit together once this fact hits you, but you prefer not to open that can of worms. It's creepy, especially since all of them look like normal 'unfeeling,' undeviated androids, yet one of them actually isn't. 

If you keep chilling in here then you're probably going to freak out, so you turn on your heel and walk back out into the main room. 

The first thing you see is Connor taking a sample of the blue blood on the wall which makes you grimace. Yeah, it was cool and all at first, but now that you've kissed him it's kinda yuck. 

A quick glance to the left shows Hank heading to the roof, but you don't wanna go up just yet.

You stroll on over to Connor and stop to stand right next to him, your arms clasped behind your back while you just observe him.

You don't say anything because of the almost faraway look in his eyes, as if he's watching something unfold right in front of him. From what you've gathered over the last few days, you're assuming he can reconstruct things and watch them play out as if it were actually happening. Of course, you're not 100% sure. 

The blue splatter of blood on the wall captures your attention again, your eyebrows knitting together while you try to visualize something yourself.

The splatters are a bit lower to the ground, it's about the height of someones leg - or maybe chest length for someone ducked down and running away from an array of bullets - so obviously someone got shot.

The trail of blue blood leads up the stairs, so you go ahead and follow traces of blood and leave Connor to his devices. 

Hank is waiting in the stairway for Connor, so you go ahead and walk on past him and up to the roof.

There are CSI guys walking around as well as some other people, but your focus immediately zeros in on a small black duffel bag between two containment units.

You zoom straight over and kneel down next to it, not touching anything to avoid messing up any evidence.

The bag is, of course, black and worn, though it's not dirty. It's just sitting there, nothing really special about it upon first inspection. There's one parachute in the bag, and, from what you remember, there were three parachuters that were caught escaping from the roof.

That's not right, is it? Why would they bring an extra parachute? And why isn't there any blue blood from here leading to the railing?

The revelation hits you like a bag of bricks.

One of the deviants is still on the roof, somewhere, hiding and probably hoping they won't be found if they're still alive. 

You bite at your lower lip lightly, this thought eliciting a couple of different emotions from you. 

Excitement because you figured it out, and dread because you have an obligation to find them and bring them in for questioning. 

You straighten up and look left and right, spotting a large spot of blue blood sitting at the edge of the metal thin closest to the door. 

The snow crunches underneath your feet when you approach, and a chill runs up your spine when a particularly strong gust of wind blows past, whipping your hair to and fro whilst also flapping your jacket around wildly. 

You stop in front of the blue blood stains and crouch down, tracing the splatters from the floor up to the metal.

It isn't natural, and the whole situation screamed inside job - or something like that. Most definitely relating to that deviant android probably hiding in the kitchen. 

You decide to follow the blood trail, wondering to yourself why nobody else thought to do that, when you realize that there's barely a trail at all. Only a smudge here and there on some of the containment units, so you'll have sympathy for the initial sweepers this time.

Eventually, the trail brings you to a small door attached to one of the cargo containers, but before you can open it up, you're stopped with a light hand coming down onto your shoulder.

You look up, inhaling sharply since you weren't expecting to be brought from your zone so suddenly, and your eyes immediately met with Connors pretty brown ones.

"Allow me, Detective."

⇑ (Hank)

You have little reason to say no really, so you just sigh and take a step back behind him.

You look at him expectantly while he, of course, returns his attention to the door and reaches down for the little wiggly handle. 

There's not anything you're expecting, actually, just an empty container and a false lead to get the cops off their tails, but that appears not to be the case. 

The small metal door swings open, and the first thing you see is the barrel of a gun. 

You don't even have time to think over your actions, for instinct takes over and you ram into Connor's side to shove him out of the doorway. 

The both of you hit the deck unscathed right as there are two loud bangs so loud that they make your ears ring. Definitely the sound of that gun you saw going off which only makes you more glad that your knee jerk reaction was to push instead of process. 

A blond-haired deviant jumps out of the containment unit with his gun raised, and he makes a beeline for the large metal units to the right of the door.

Hank appears seemingly out of nowhere and grabs yours and Connors arms, pulling you both back and guiding you to cover. 

You collapse onto the ground with your gun clutched to your chest, having pulled it out at some point between then and now, your heart racing and chest heaving while you force the panic down. 

"We have to stop them! If they destroy it, then we won't learn anything!" Connor exclaims from the left of Hank.

"We can't save it, it's too late! We'll just get ourselves killed!" Hank's voice has a sense of finality to it, but Connor doesn't listen. 

Connor moves to the left and jumps to his feet, running _towards_ the gunshots to try and save the deviant. 

"Connor!" There's a very obvious panicked undertone in Hank's yell and the way he tries to grab him before he can get away, but Connor doesn't stop. 

You pop your head around the right corner and watch in awe as he runs towards the blonde-haired deviant, expertly dodging bullets along the way.

The android sent by CyberLife hurls himself over the obstacle in his path separating him from the frightened deviant and grabs onto him to try and stop him.

Everything happens pretty quickly after that, because one moment the gunshots stop and Connor has a hold of the android, and the next the gun is forced upwards and it goes off once more. 

Blue blood spurts from the head of the deviant, painting the metal above them blue while he goes limp and collapses into a heap on the snowy ground. 

Connor steps back with his hands up and his eyes wide, his gaze stuck on the, now dead, deviant.

You scramble to your feet and scurry over to him, returning your gun to its' holster along the way.

"C-Connor! Holy shit, Connor are you okay?" You sound alarmed, which you are, and you can't help the slight tremble in you voice. You're worried, and you were afraid that he'd have gotten himself shot. 

All you hear is a soft, "Okay..." from him, his gaze glued to the dead body of the poor deviant.

Hank ran over just a few steps behind you, and, when he steps in front of the brown-haired android, he asks him with a similar concern in which he usually shows you, "Are you hurt?"

Connor's LED is red, but his stare never wavers or meets yours and Hanks.

A sudden, overwhelming desire to make him feel better settles heavily on your heart, so you reach up slowly and grab his arm in hopes that it'll help ground him.

"I'm okay..." he repeats, this time a bit stronger. He sounds traumatized to put it shortly, which is enough to further your concern.

Hank takes a step back, and decides that it's fine to scold him now that he knows he's alright. "Jesus!" He sounds pretty peeved, and he shakes his head disapprovingly.

You don't step away like your muscles itch to, for instead you continue to hold onto his arm with a delicate touch, leaving him room to pull away if he wants.

Finally, Connor tears his gaze from the dead blond android and aims his attention down at Hanks' feet as said Lieutenant walks off to the side to pace.

Hank starts to rant about Connor never listening to him and not taking orders, but Connor doesn't really seem to be processing _anything_ at the moment; not even Hank's harsh words. Of course, Hank sounds mad, but you can tell it's from a place of care. 

"Connor... what's wrong...?" You try to coax an explanation for his odd behavior, your grip on his upper arm tightening ever so slightly in what you hope is a comforting way.

"I... was connected to its' memory..." He pauses for a moment, his gaze faraway and unseeing, "When it fired, I felt it die... L-Like I was dying."

You let your hand drop to your side, taken aback by how thick with _emotion_ his voice is.

The pure, raw distress in his voice is frightening. You've never seen or heard him like this before; it makes you feel awful. And his next words only make you feel worse.

"I was scared..." 

Your heart drops and your chest aches painfully, but you don't reach out to try and console him this time. 

For now, you realize that it's best to give him some space, but that doesn't mean you won't worry about him.

He starts to speak again after dropping that truth bomb, sounding a lot less frightened this time around, "I saw something, in its' memory... a-a word painted on a piece of rusty metal..." Another frustrating pause for effect, "Jericho."

That sounds like the name of a person, but it's written on metal? Possibly some sort of refuge, or maybe the name of their leader or something.

There's little reason for you to speculate too heavily about something you have a bad understanding on, so you opt to leave it be for now.

You turn your attention back onto Connor who is looking at the dead deviant on the ground once more.

The look in his eyes tells you that you need to get him out of here, so you turn to Hank to try and tell him as such. 

Hank seems to have the same thought process as you judging by his expression, so you go ahead and place your hand on the small of Connors' back like he does to you.

"Hey, Connor... Our work here is done, so why don't we head back home?" Your voice is just as soft as your touch on his back which seems to do you well. 

Connor swallows heavily, you can tell from the movement of his jaw and throat, and glances over at you fleeting.

"Right... I guess we can do that..." It's almost as if he isn't all there, like he's not actually hearing what you're saying despite his responses; a fact that makes your heart throb painfully. 

You remove your hand from his back and let him walk off, and, immediately after he's out of sight, you turn to Hank and speak in a low voice. "Hank... I'm going to take Connor back to my apartment tonight. I, uh, I'm sure he'll be fine but... he's not supposed to feel things, right?"

Hank knows perfectly well what you mean, the troubled furrow of his brow telling you as such.

He nods his head a once, sighing wearily before replying. "Yeah, yeah I get it, kid. I'll tell Chris we're on our way out, okay?" He sounds annoyed, but that look on his face displays his worry like a beacon. 

* * *

The three of you drive down to Hanks' place to drop him off, the car ride mostly silent along the way. 

Upon turning down his block, you pull up in front of his house and put the car in park.

Nobody moves or does anything for all of ten seconds, so you break this dry spell and turn so you can smile and say goodbye. "I'll see you tomorrow, Hank. Um, we got anything planned?" You ask softly, unlocking the doors so he can get out.

"Yeah, actually. We've got a meeting with Elijah Kamski at around 11:00 A.M. tomorrow. So, uh, get here before 10:20. Okay?"

That sounds cool, meeting the creator of Cyberlife. Might as well.

You nod your head and smile a bit brighter, feeling a little excited to meet the man himself.

"Dope," Hank rolls his eyes upon your use of one of his millennial words, "If I were you, I'd lay off the drinks tonight. Of course, you don't have to or anything; but I figured I might as well say it. Have a good night, kay?" You flash him a mischievous smile, mostly because you leave no room for him to retort with anything snarky or disagreeing.

Hank grumbles under his breath, not directly addressing you, and gets out of the car with his house keys already in hand. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N. Don't give Connor any trouble." 

Oh, so now he's making fun of you back? 

"Hey! You're supposed to be saying that to me!" You protest, though there's no actual anger or incredulity in your voice. 

He laughs triumphantly and says no more, shutting your car and heading up the small stairway leading to his front door. 

You watch until he disappears inside, then you rub at the back of your neck and glance into the rearview mirror to catch a glimpse of Connor who has been awfully quiet.

You actually catch his gaze when you look back, so you gesture with a flick of your head towards the passenger seat, offering up a place closer up to the front, "Come sit up here. You're not permanently booted to the back just 'cause Hank made you move."

He doesn't outwardly react to your offer right away, but when he does it's in the form of his head slowly nodding once. 

No time is wasted on his part on moving up front to sit with you, and, once he's buckled in, you take the car out of park and pull out of the spot.

The silence in the car is almost deafening, so you try to break it with a question about his wellbeing. "Connor... Are you okay?" 

You glance over at Connor one more time, seeing that same troubling, faraway stare that bothered you back before you left the Stratford Tower. It's concerning, but also, to some extent, relieving since there _is_ a semblance of emotion in him.

You really are worried about him; about how he's taking this whole emotion thing from the deviant who committed suicide. From what you understand, he and the deviant were linked in that moment before his death, so the feelings of the deviant were forcefully transferred to him. 

He felt something - fear - for the first time, and it seems to have _traumatized_ him. 

He doesn't appear to understand your question, though. "I... I'm fine, Y/N. I was not harmed or shot, thanks to you, so why do you ask?"

That's not what you meant, but he doesn't seem to get that. 

"No, I mean, are you _okay_. You were scared up on that roof- you sounded upset and I guess I..." You don't finish that thought and instead shake your head, saying no more. 

"What happened on the roof was nothing of consequence. I'm alright, really, it was just an unexpected occurrence." 

You don't know why, but his words make you relax slightly even though you know it's not necessarily true.

"Alright, I won't doubt you on that. When we get back, though, I want you to relax. No waiting on me or harping on my health or anything like that, okay?"

The look on his face tells you he wants to protest, but don't give him the chance to deny your conditions because you put up one hand (with the other still on the steering wheel) and tell him with a sense of finality. "Quiet, Connor. Lets' just... drive for now and you can argue later."

Once again he doesn't appear too happy with your ruling, but he stays quiet like you said and just nods again.

It only takes about 15 minutes to get back to your apartment, and only 1 minute to get inside and situated.

You remove your shoes and big coat, then you turned to Connor who's standing right next to you after entering through your front door.

"You can get comfy too. I'm not offended by you taking your shoes off or whatever."

From the corner of your eye you see him nod which brings a tiny smile to your face.

You make your way over to the couch in your living room to lay down, a flash of earlier today coming to mind. You, of course, push that away and try to be inviting and not awkward. "Come sit with me, Connor, remember what I said? Relax." You put a lot of emphasis on 'relax' which furthers your point.

You close your eyes and fold your hands over your stomach, opening only one eye so you can peek at him and see if he's listening.

When you open your eye, you're surprised to see him _right there_ and preparing to sit next to your slouched form. His 'relaxed' form is no different than his usual one, with his back straight and hands folded neatly in his lap. 

You sit up after a moment and turn on the TV with the black remote sitting on your coffee table, the news blaring on about the broadcast that went on today.

You quickly change the channel to the science fiction network, some movie about space travel from the 2010's being what's playing at the moment. Of course there's nothing interesting on, is there ever when you need it? 

An sigh over dramatic sigh is your nonverbal response to this and you turn your head to look up at Connor, another brief glimpse of earlier coming to mind.

Honestly, you kinda forgot all about the kiss with all the excitement of the investigation, but now that you're here in the exact spot it happened, with the person it happened with, you can't help but to think about it.

Connor's already looking at you when your vision comes back into focus, and you can't even stop your face from getting warm.

"Your body temperature has increased... I'm assuming you're thinking about what I did this morning."

God, does he have a mind reading function too?

"I don't know why I did what I did this morning... but I'm assuming you weren't exactly against it since you _did_ return the gesture." He's not wrong in the slightest, though you can sense his hesitation in assuming your feelings on the matter. 

In fact he's so fucking right that your embarrassment, and small amount of shame, only increases.

"Y-Yeah, I guess I didn't mind..." Your voice is soft, and you have to admit you're feeling pretty shy for the first time in freaking forever.

You're usually sure of yourself when it comes to matters of the heart (mostly because you never have to _deal_ with them) but when it come's to Connor here you just can't stop yourself from being a total mess; like a little school girl with a crush on a classmate.

"It was an _interesting_ experience, but I think I liked it." He looks confused by his own words, but that doesn't stop him from continuing. "Maybe we should do it again sometime."

He sounds so innocent in the way he says it, which is why you know it's most likely just an... experiment to him; and that's what really confusing you here.

Why would he want to experiment such a thing? And with you no less. Is it because you're his coworker and he knows he can trust you? Because if that's the case then this is all going to be a lot more painful than you originally anticipated. 

A part of you holds some hope that there's more to it than that; that there's a small, hidden piece of him somewhere that longs to be closer to you like there is in you. 

For now, though, you know it's best to refrain from confusing him anymore with your own feelings.

"Y-Yeah..." You pause, clearing your throat and yanking at your hair nervously, "Maybe so." You chew on your bottom lip lightly for a few moments, leaning back and avoiding eye contact adamantly.

You feel the couch cushion dip down next to you and a presence hovering and slightly brushing right into your side, signaling that Connor has moved closer, but you don't glance back like your mind is telling you to. You just sit there and glance up at him, slightly nervous but still not making an escape. 

"It's already 6:28 P.M. Man, how did it get so late? We're, uh, going to meet Elijah Kamski tomorrow too, hopefully he knows something..." You want to break the silence already, but Connor doesn't respond to your attempts to make conversation.

You then remember that you wanted to make him relax, so you scoot forward to the edge of your cushion and grab his leg, the one closest to you. You lift it up to the best of your ability until he catches on to what you're wanting and moves with you, thus allowing you to put both his legs on the coffee table in a resting position. 

It's a real improvement from his usual tense, proper stance - even if he has no real muscles to get tired or cramp. 

Once you've succeeded in resting his ankles on your coffee table, you turn your head and smile brightly.

He took his shoes off like you suggested before he came to sit with you, one less thing for you to take care of.

You don't explain your actions, assuming he'll get it sooner or later, and just continue with your disassembly of his professional and refined demeanor.

His nice new tie catches your attention next, so you reach up to the knot hanging tightly around his neck and loosen it until it comes undone, folding it up and placing it on the table next to his feet when you're done.

"There you go. Nice and comfy." You sound and look all too pleased with yourself, the upturn of your lips and glimmering excitement in your eyes attesting to this fact.

Usually, you'd expected him to say something along the lines of 'not being able to feel uncomfortable', but he doesn't. He doesn't say anything, actually. 

His eyes were on you the whole time, probably because he was trying to figure out what you were doing.

You settle yourself next to him again, your side actually pressing into his unlike a few moments earlier. Before you can lose your confidence, you lay your head to the side and rest your cheek on his shoulder. 

There is no excuse or distraction to keep you from addressing what's been troubling you since the end of the investigation at the tower now that you've succeeded in making him relax, so you decide to get straight to the point. "Connor... you know, I... care about you a whole lot. What happened today with the deviant - what you did - that wasn't a good move. He could've killed you." You sigh and raise your head up, looking at him with sadness plaguing your once happy countenance, "Contrary to your belief... Hank would also be upset if something bad were to happen to you. You view yourself as a replaceable machine, but you have to remember that you're the original - and that's what's important to us... to me."

Connors' LED is yellow, his eyes seemingly boring into yours while you explain your feelings on the matter, though his expression is soft.

It's like he's hanging onto your every word, taking each one into consideration as well as your feelings on the matter.

"I will... keep that in mind, Y/N. Please forgive me if I caused you distress." He leans in slightly closer when he apologizes, and you can't help but quickly glance down at his lips. "Though I must also implore that you don't try and push me out of the way of bullets anymore either. I can survive being shot quite easily, simple repairs and replacements, but you...," he trails of, looking troubled by his own line of thinking. 

"You know I won't promise you any such thing." Your stubbornness is both visible and audible, mostly because it's true. You'd do the same thing in a heartbeat - for him and Hank. Because they're your partners. 

"Yes... I know. Though I still wish you wouldn't because-" he pauses, trying to find the right words to express what he means, "I care about you, too. You and Hank."

All you can do is smile.

He's come such a long way these past few days; he's so much more human each day, and who he really is shines through more and more. All you can hope for now is that _he_ can determine who he really is, who he wants to be; that he can make his own path and find his true purpose.

And you, as well as Hank, will cheer him on along the way. 

\---

\- (Y/N- Companion)

⇑ (Hank- Friend)


	15. Power-Move Dominance-Asserting Techniques

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rewatching Kubz Scouts play DBH for a third time in the last 2 weeks because I can't afford the game to play myself. I really am trash, lol.

You ended up inviting Connor to hang out in your room again while you slept for the night; well, more like he asked if you wanted him to and you just said yes - the temptation was way to high, and you didn't really wanna say _no_.

When you wake up in the morning you're in a similar position to the one you woke up in yesterday; your cheek pressed against his white shirt and your arms wrapped around his midsection. He also has one arm around you, the other holding a new book which he brought with him before bed last night.

You don't move or signal that you're awake right away, instead you just lay there and stare at the wall blearily while also enjoying this cozy, safe feeling which you still aren't quite used to. 

A yawn is what betrays your wakeful status to the reading android just above you, though you're assuming he already knew and just decided to wait until you were ready, but that doesn't bother you any. 

Slowly but surely you retract your limbs and untangle yourself from him, sitting up only once you're free from the wonderful confines of his arms.

The arm around you moves as you get up, though you barely register that as you're too busy rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

"Good morning, Y/N. It's 9:48 A.M." You nod your head, choosing to ignore that you, once again, woke up pretty late, and let your arms fall to your sides. 

You finally look over at him and see that he discarded the book on the nightstand, still open, and his back is straight as a board now that he's sitting up. 

You offer him a sleepy smile, running a careful hand through your slightly knotted hair, and return the polite greeting.

Today the three of you are going to meet with Elijah Kamski to see if he knows anything about all this deviant business, and, if you remember correctly, Hank wanted you to be at his place around 10:20ish.

"Lets aim to leave before 10:10." Normally, you wouldn't voice it out loud and just leave when you're ready, but saying it out loud might get Connor to keep you on a track. 

He nods his head once, then gets up from your bed. "Alright."

You follow his example and throw your legs over the side of your bed, pushing yourself to your feet after a little bit of a stretch. 

"Why don't you go read some more while I get ready? I'll make my own breakfast this time too, okay?" 

His expression shifts to displeasure, but he nods regardless and swipes the book he put down, "I'll wait in the other room." And then he's gone. 

He really is a total sweetheart, but he's done way too much for you already, so much that you have no idea how you'll even begin repay him.

Besides, if you wanted a service android you would've gotten one a long time ago. You don't need someone to take care of you, and you definitely don't need someone to constantly remind you that your sleep and eating habits suck. 

However, you do understand that the main reason he's doing all this is, probably, because Hank told him to keep an eye on you; but you really are fine. Staying up late and skipping unimportant meals are basically second nature to your job. And as long as you have the golden drink, coffee, you can always accomplish your tasks. 

You change, brush your teeth, and make your way out of your bedroom door in around 10 or so minutes.

As soon as you exit your room, you're hit with the wonderful aroma of pancakes. 

At first you're filled with happiness because it smells like _heaven_ , but then you realize he purposefully ignored your request to not make you breakfast this time. 

When you step around the corner and are in sight of the kitchen, you see a plate of pancakes and a steaming pan on the stove, 

"Connor." There is a warning in your tone, though you don't exactly look displeased. "I said you didn't have to." 

"I know, but I wanted to." 

⇑ (Y/N)

Ah, hell. You can't argue with him when he says it like that. 

"Yeah, okay fine." You sigh heavily, and decide to shut up and just eat the pancakes; it isn't much of a chore, though, cause they smell wonderful.

You finish all of the pancakes in record time, and, once you do that, you wash your dish, gather your coat and shoes, and make you way to the front door with Connor hot on your heels.

Before you can grab the door handle, your phone buzzes in your pocket and steals your attention away. 

The caller ID says "Hanky Panky" and when you answer you're greeted with Hanks' rough voice. "I'm parked outside, were the hell are you two?"

You hadn't realized you were taking so long to get ready.

"Sorry Hank. I didn't realize it was already... 10:32? Shit, we're on our way out right now!" The door swings open once you turn the handle, and you see his car parked there. 

You were supposed to drive to his house, but you were taking so long that he decided to come and get you. Awesome.

You turn your head back to call for Connor, not realizing that he's right there, and run right into him. His arms are firm under your fingertips when you reach up to steady yourself, and your head tilts back when you look up at him. 

"Sorry, Connor! Um, Hank came to pick us up cause we were taking too long." He nods his head and places his hand on your lower back when you step back, urging you out the door with a gentle push.

"I will lock your door. Go ahead and join the Lieutenant."

You nod your head slowly, distracted by his pretty brown eyes and the hand on the small of your back, and flash him a quick smile over your shoulder once you gain enough sense to turn.

It's really snowy, as it has been for the past few days, but this time those crystalized flakes are actually falling from the sky, decorating your hair and the top of Hank's old model car. 

The doors of his car are all unlocked, so you have no problem climbing into the back seat and buckling yourself in. 

You lean forward in-between the two front seats and smile, patting Hanks' shoulder gently with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry for keeping you waiting Hank. I guess I lost track of time during breakfast, b-but we're here now so we can go."

Connor slides in the passenger seat while you try and excuse your tardiness, corroborating your story when Hank looks at you disbelievingly. 

There is no more discussion on the matter, for Hank pulls out of the parking spot next to your car and promptly leaves. 

* * *

The car ride to Kamski's mansion was nice for the most part - minus the constant snow pelting the windshield and how it's colder in the car than you like.

The navigation system says that you're only another five minutes away, and that seems to be about right if the large home that materializes further ahead is anything to go by.

You sit up straight in your seat, tracing the outline of the large home with your eyes.

Living in a place like that must be complete heaven. No parking hassle, no loud neighbors, and just you, surrounded by nature. You'd never be able to afford something as nice as this, not to mention you wouldn't be home often enough to enjoy the luxury, but it is still nice to fantasize about what could be.

Hank parks his car next to a little decorative bridge in front of the house, wasting no time in getting out like normal upon arriving at a scene or investigation.

When you check the time on your phone it reads 11:17 A.M. Thankfully, you three aren't late for the meeting, because if you were, you'd feel really bad.

You and Connor don't get out right away unlike Hank; instead, you sit there watch as Hank pulls out his phone, pacing back and fourth in front of the car once he holds it up to his ear and begins to speak with whoever called him. 

You finally open the door and step out of the car just as Hank lowers his phone and pockets it once more, Connor getting out at the same time as you.

The air is so cold that it burns the inside of your nose and immediately steals the warmth from your face, your hair blowing around as an icy gust of wind slaps you in the face. 

An attempt is made to conserve warmth on your part by hugging yourself tightly, though it does little for you.

You approach Hank at the front of the car and look up at him curiously, noticing the troubled expression on his face immediately.

The spot to his left remains unoccupied, so you step up there while Connor moves to stand at his right.

Hank looks down at the ground for a moment, that worried furrow in his eyebrow concerning you slightly. Before you can ask if everyone it alright yourself, however, Connor speaks up. 

"Is everything okay, Lieutenant?"

You nod your head along since you're wondering the same thing.

"Chris... was on patrol last night," Hank pauses, this pause making your worry spike heavily and you heart drop. "He was attacked by a bunch of deviants... and said he was saved by Markus himself..."

Oh thank god. 

You're shocked to put it simply; shocked, but immensely relieved.

Chris' wife is a friend of yours, you met a week or so before Chris was transferred to your department; not to mention you two have worked together many times in the past. He's a damn good officer and a good man too. 

You audibly sigh in relief. 

"Is Chris okay?" Connor asks with what you think is concern of his own.

"Yeah. He's in shock but... he's alive..." That look on Hank's face is one that you recognize quite clearly.

It's an expression you've worn many times; one that betrays the uncertainty about something you've done. In this case, whose side you're on. 

Hank mumbles something else under his breath which you don't catch, but you can assume it was probably something about that doubt. 

"How did you find Kamski?" A question for Hank no doubt since you had nothing to do with the creation of this appointment.

"I remember this guy was all over the media when CyberLife first started selling androids. I made a few calls..."

Good work on his part. You didn't very much enjoy watching his interviews back when this all started. Something about him is unnerving and creepy. He seems pretty weird, like he's obsessed with perfection and will accept nothing less.

You reach up and place your hands on the sides of your face, the warmth from your stiff, gloved hands granting a little relief for your ice cold cheeks.

Hank walks up to the door with his arms hanging at his sides, Connor following just as careless while you practically freeze to death in between them.

The grey-haired Lieutenant rings the fancy, glowing doorbell and a soft chime jingles throughout the house as well as outside with you three. It's actually a pretty nice tune though.

You all stand there awkwardly for a few moments, Hank and Connor looking around while you shake in your boots, but nobody answers for at least 30 seconds.

Hank reaches up to ring the bell again when, suddenly, the door swings open and reveals a very pretty blonde girl.

She's gorgeous, so much so that you don't notice the LED on the side of her head right away. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail and she's wearing a modest enough blue dress that hugs her form nicely. This fact becomes creepy once you do realize that she's an android. 

Hank offers what is equivalent to a pleasant smile, though he looks a tad nervous and sounds uncomfortable. "Hi, uh. I'm, er, Lieutenant Anderson, Detroit Police Department. We're here to see Mr. Elijah Kamski."

Her deadpan expression morphs and a lovely smile takes its place while she steps back and opens the door up wider.

"Please, come in." She turns to the side and gestures for you three to enter, the smile on her face seeming genuine.

Hank mumbles an awkward 'Okay', and steps into the threshold with you hot on his heels.

You're so goddamn cold right now you feel like your nose might actually fall off, which is why you're practically breathing down his neck when she welcomes you guys inside. 

The blonde closes the door after Connor, then she strides back in front of Hank.

"I'll let Elijah know you're here. But please, make yourself comfortable."

You smile sweetly and nod your head in acknowledgement, "Thank you so much." 

She returns the smile, and then she's gone through another door. 

You glance around the small waiting-like room and spot two wonderfully comfortable looking chairs, and, upon spying them, you waltz on over to one of the seats on the far side of the room to sit down.

The music playing inside is soft, but not so soft that you don't notice it. It kind of reminds you of elevator music, though not the annoying kind. You imagine that Hank isn't a fan, however, given his annoyed glance up at the speakers in the ceiling.

The room smells vaguely of cinnamon, a comforting scent that makes you feel warm inside despite your uncertainty about being here in the first place. 

Hank sits down on the other seat and observes the small room much like you, though his expression doesn't betray what he's thinking to you. 

Connor paces around the room, most likely to scan the contents of it, and you can't help but to idly watch him.

Hank awkwardly claps his hands together, startling you slightly, but doesn't say anything. 

The brown-haired android's looking at the picture of Kamski when Hank suddenly speaks up, "Nice girl..."

You nod your head, smiling mostly to yourself. "Mmhm. Super cute."

Hank rolls his eyes at your comment, grunting his disapproval which draws a laugh from you.

Connor turns, nodding his head like you, "You're right... she's really pretty."

Oh, do your ears deceive you? Did Connor just refer to an _android_ as _her_ instead of _it_? You're going to have to get your ears checked because there's no way you heard that right just now.

A big smile brightens your face when he humanizes the blond girl, a warm swell of happiness spreading across your chest. 

"Nice place... guess androids haven't been a bad thing for everybody." Hank never tries this hard to fill the silence that often stretches out between the two of you, but here he is now doing his best to make small talk. Interesting. 

You understand what he means and all, but to say that they've been a bad thing for even _most_ people is a huge overstatement. 

"So - you're about to meet your maker, Connor. How does it feel?"

"Kamski is one of the greatest geniuses of the 21st century. It'll be interesting to meet him in person."

You would never know what it's like to meet someone who actually physically created you; yeah you have your parents who are technically your creators, but it surely can't be the same thing. 

"Sometimes I wish I could meet my creator face to face... " You sit up straighter and looked at Hank with something akin to sympathy in your eyes, knowing exactly what he's thinking about. "I'd have a couple things I'd want to say to him..."

You're beginning to feel a bit antsy just sitting there, so you push off the chair and stand up again, starting to pace as soon as you're away from your chair. 

Connor's observing a picture next to the door that girl left through while playing with his coin, though something in his expression looks upset almost. 

You stretch your arms up over your head, arching your achy back while wiggling your fingers around; you finally got feeling back in those frozen little feelers.

The door suddenly slides open again, the suddenness of it startling you.

Hank, of course, is not phased by it. He rises from the chair and takes a few steps towards the, now open, door.

The girl stands there with her hands clasped in front of her and her focus directed at you and Hank. "Elijah will see you now."

You walk straight past her and into the huge room ahead, the blood red pool and the three occupants of said pool being the first thing that catches your eye. 

The water, not thick or opaque enough to be actual blood, glows red with LED lights that shine beneath the surface. While it is rather mesmerizing and the color's nice, it's also really goddamn creepy. 

It smells the same in here as it does in that waiting room, though there is that faintly bleach-like chlorine smell, but it's also warmer in here as well (something you will never complain about). 

Those 'three occupants' just so happen to be two more of those blonde-haired girl models, as well as a half-naked man. 

The girls are wearing matching bikini's, and their eyes practically pierce into the three of you as they watch you pass by. 

Hank speaks but you're too busy being extremely uncomfortable to catch what he says.

You hear a new voice, one you only ever heard on TV before, then suddenly the man in the pool is doing a lap back towards you, Hank, and Connor. Hopefully because he's getting out.

A quick glance around shows you not much else on this side of the room, so you follow Hank and the girl over to an area with a couple chairs next to a huge glass window that overlooks a vast, snow covered rocky area. The view really is gorgeous, but you imagine it'd be even nicer in the summer and spring. The frozen over water running and shimmering in the summer sun, green grass and beautiful wildflowers of all colors. 

That image is enough to bring a smile to your face, even if it's just a figment of your imagination. 

Connor eyes you curiously when you begin to smile, but you don't offer an explanation. 

Kamski does a few more laps despite the fact that he invited you all in a few moments ago, so the three of you just awkwardly stand around the seating area.

What the hell is that even about? If he wasn't done swimming then why did he even get out in the first place? Or is this some sort of power-move dominance-asserting technique that they taught him in business school? 

The man finally climbs out of the pool, his pale skin glistening with moisture as the water drops, that you expected to be red even out of the pool, drip from his hair and slide down the expanse of his body.

You turn your head off to the side to avoid making eye-contact with the speedo wearing man, feeling extremely uncomfortable by his state of undress.

Hank only watches with little amusement in his expression, glancing briefly at you since he knows you're definitely uneasy around someone so underdressed, with impatience rolling off of him in waves.

The girl tends to Kamski, wrapping him up in a black robe while he steps up to the window and slicks back his black, man-bunned hair some more.

When the black-haired man finally turns again, you and your boys are all already facing him.

Hank speaks up first. "I'm Lieutenant Anderson. This is Detective Y/N and Connor."

You nod your head in greeting, your eyes still wandering around the window out at the pretty scenery in front of you to avoid looking at him. 

"What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"

Your eyes flicker back over to the (quite rat like) man, an inquisitive look on your face. It should be obvious after all.

"Sir, we're investigating deviants. I know you left CyberLife years ago, but I was hoping you'd be able to tell us something we don't know."

One would think that he'd figure that out since he's supposed to be some sort of genius. 

Kamski had been looking down while Hank spoke, probably processing what he's saying, before his eyes flicker back up to Hanks' face.

You can't read his expression, something about it isn't familiar to you, which you find to be rather frustrating.

"Deviants..." He pauses as if he's expecting something, maybe a reaction, but the three of you give him nothing. "Fascinating, aren't they? Perfect beings with infinite intelligence, and now they have free will." It's settled; you don't like him. The way he says it is unnerving, but you try to keep your visible unease to a minimum. "Machines are so superior to us, confrontation was inevitable. Humanities greatest achievement threatens to be its' downfall..."

They aren't threatening- all they've done is express their desire to be free, is that really so wrong? Just last night Chris' life was saved by the deviant leader, so if they're so threatening and violent, then why would they do that?

He smirks, a look that you very much want to wipe off his face, and adds, "Isn't it ironic?" 

You side step and rub your arm while Connor finally says something, "Deviancy seems to spread like some sort of virus. We thought you might know something about that."

Kamski shakes his head, opening his arms up while he speaks (very much an action speaker). "All ideas are viruses that spread like epidemics... Is the desire to be free a contagious disease?"

That's an interesting point.

Your eyebrows knit together while you think that over, your fingers tapping at your arm subconsciously while they converse.

"Listen, we didn't come here to talk philosophy. The machines you created may be planning a revolution. Either you can tell us something that'll be helpful, or we'll be on our way."

You bob your head to show your agreement with Hank, wanting this to just be over already. 

Kamski doesn't even acknowledge Hank, though, for instead he steps aside and zeros in on Connor. "What about you, Connor?"

You throw Hank a questioning look, but the greying Lieutenant only shrugs his shoulders.

"Whose side are you on?"

Oh, you see what's going on here. Kamski is trying to trick him; to confuse him and stress him out as a part of his stupid philosophical game. Exactly what you've been trying to prevent for the past few days.

"I have no side. I was designed to stop deviants and that's what I intend to do." His response disappoints you a bit, though you suppose that's better than some of the other things he could've possible said.

Kamski appears to find that funny given the humor in his voice and the look on his face."Well, that's what you're programmed to say...," talking to Connor like he's a toddler, "But you. What do you really want?" The dark-haired CyberLife creator steps closer to Connor, a fact that unnerves you further. 

Connors expression shifts and his LED changes color as he processes Kamski's words, and then, very fleetingly, he glances at you. 

His distress, consequently, distresses you as well, so you step slightly closer before you can stop yourself.

"What I want is not important."

Kamski seemed to notice that quick little glance as well, because he swivels his head to the side, his eyes scanning over you for a moment with apt interest.

"Chloe." He calls for the blonde girl next to you, his inquisitive eyes only leaving you once she steps forward and pads towards him.

A sense of dread fills you while she approaches, your gut assuring you that nothing good will come of whatever it is he's planning. That sinking suspicion that he'll try to pull something only increases as the seconds tick by. You feel like you're going to drown in the worry. 

"I'm sure you're familiar with the Turing Test. Mere formality." He finally steps away from Connor, and instead turns towards Chloe, grabbing her by her shoulders and spinning her towards all of you, "Simple question of algorithms and computing capacity."

It's like looking at her captures his attention because he trails off with a faraway stare for just a few seconds. "What interests me... is whether machines are capable of empathy." Kamski turns back and looked at you and Hank, all of this information at once making your head spin, "I call it the Kamski Test, it's very simple you'll see..." His attention is drawn by Chloe once more, she who is simply staring ahead expressionlessly. "Magnificent, isn't it. One of the first intelligent models developed by CyberLife." He reaches up and beings to caress her face carefully, treating her like a porcelain doll that's too precious and fragile to be handled.

Your mind flashes to that girl at the Eden Club even despite the fact that he hasn't done anything super concerning as of yet.

"Young, and beautiful forever."

You don't like the look in his eyes; you don't like the way he calls her it; and you especially don't like the sly glances he keeps throwing towards you and Hank.

"A flower that will never wither... but what is it really? Piece of plastic imitating a human?"

There's a mahogany table cabinet behind him that he turns to after asking that rhetorical question, though you can't see what he reaches for inside since his body blocks your view.

"Or a living being," he pulls something out, your hand wandering to the gun holstered in your belt on instinct, "with a soul." He finally faces the three of you with his hand up, the other one sporting a handgun similar to your own. He holds it by the barrel though, not a sign of aggression in the slightest. 

You drop your hand from the button of your holster, though you don't let your guard down. 

Kamski lowers the sweet blonde down to her knees, but she doesn't fight him. She just sits in that execution pose, looking straight ahead, with eyes unseeing and countenance unfeeling.

"It's up to you to answer that fascinating question, Connor."

Oh fuck. Now you see what he's up to.

Kamski approaches him with the gun hanging there in his left hand uselessly, then he hands the gun to him, ushering it into his right hand which he then raises so the barrel of the weapon points directly at her head. 3

Hank steps back while you step froward, though you don't physically do anything.

"What do you think you're doing?" You hiss sharply, moving to step forward again.

Your advances are met with resistance, however, when Hank places his hand on your shoulder to halt you.

Kamski doesn't even acknowledge your words.

"Destroy this machine and I'll tell you all I know. Or spare it, if you feel it's alive, but you'll leave here without having learnt anything from me."

Hank let his hand drop from your shoulder and finally says something, "Okay I think we're done here. Come on, Connor. Let's go. Sorry to get you out of yo-" he's promptly cut off by Kamski's urgent voice.

"What's more important to you, Connor? Your investigation, or the life of this android?"

The LED on Connors' head is flashing yellow, spinning rapidly while he thinks over the instructions he's been given.

A second ago you were sure he won't do it, but now you're really starting to worry. This man is a master manipulator- he knows exactly what to say and how to say it. He does it so well, in fact, that you'd probably consider it too in Connor's position. 

"Decide who you are. An obedient machine... or a living being endowed with free will..." 

Hank raises his voice this time, agitation mixed with a hint of panic in his voice. "Thats enough! Connor, we're leaving." Hank turns and begins to walk off, hoping that Connor will just drop the weapon and leave, but when he hears no accompanying footsteps he spins back around to see what the hold up is. 

"Pull the trigger," Hank calls his name again, more stern this time, "and I'll tell you all you want to know."

Anger and demand isn't going to solve anything, so when you step forward and speak, you do so calmly. "Connor... please don't..." Your voice is slightly softer than you wanted it to be, but maybe that'll play in your favor.

His gaze flickers for a moment towards you, then back to the girl at his mercy in front of him. 

His LED flashes yellow again, then red, before he intakes a sharp breath and shoves the gun back into Kamski's hand.

⇑ (Y/N)

⇑ (Hank)

He say's nothing, but Kamski sure can't pass up an opportunity to hear himself speak. "Fascinating.... CyberLife's last chance to save humanity, is itself a deviant."

Connor doesn't stop staring, his words sounding empty and lost. "I'm...," he pauses, then looks at Kamski sharply and declares firmly, "I'm not a deviant."

"You prefer to spare a machine then accomplish your mission." He finally helps the Chloe back up to her feet, "You saw a living being in this android. You showed empathy." He pushes Chloe's shoulder gently and then she walks off as if she didn't just have a gun pointed to her head. "A war is coming... you'll have to chose your side. Will you betray your own people or stand up against your creators?"

Everything he says is to complete an agenda, and this agenda just so happens to be about confusing this advanced CyberLife prototype that he created. 

"What could be worse than having to chose between two evils?"

Finally, you've had just about enough. You've decided to put your foot down, so you step between them and grab Connors' arm while Hank moves to his other side. It seems the Lieutenant has a similar thought process.

"Come on. Let's get out of here, Connor..." Still your voice is soft even despite the hard look in your eyes and the withering glare you sent towards the black-haired man.

The actions of Hank and yourself seem to snap him out of this daze Kamski forced him into, but you don't wait around for him to fully recover. The three of you hurry over towards the doors, but Kamski's voice makes Connor freeze beneath your hold on his arm. 

"By the way, I always leave an emergency exit in my programs... you never know."

You clench your fists tightly, having had enough of his cryptic speech and warnings, and gently pull Connor further along.

Hank's already out the door and waiting for you both, most likely feeling suffocated but Kamski's ego like you are. 

You walk ahead quickly and surely, a sick feeling working its' way into your stomach.

Hank doesn't make it any better when he begins to question Connor about it on the bridge either. "Why didn't you shoot?"

You stop in your tracks and look over, also rather curious about this fact even despite your distaste for everything that just went down. 

The expression on Connor's face as he answers troubles you, though you'd bet that he's feeling way more conflicted and upset than you. "I just saw that girls eyes... and I couldn't," his voice trembles, thus making your heart clench painfully, "Thats all."

He looks away from Hank, his eyes meeting yours almost immediately.

"You're always saying you would do anything to accomplish your mission. That was our chance to learn something and you let it go..."

The glare you send Hank upon him saying that is enough to make a child cry, though he's use to that look by now. You know what he's getting at, but does he really have to say it like that.

"Yeah, I know what I should have done but I told you I couldn't!" 

You start approaching before you even give it thought, your instincts screaming at you to console him.

"I'm sorry... okay?" 

"You don't need to say sorry for not killing someone!" You blurt out before you can engage your filter, though you probably would've said that regardless. 

Hank smiles, and if you weren't so preoccupied with your worry for Connor, you might've burst into tears. 

It's an expression that compliments his hardened face well. It takes some of the years off and makes him approachable; it makes you _happy_ to see him like that, to see him proud of something and so hopeful. 

Fuck, when was the last time you saw him smile so softly, so genuinely, like that?

"Maybe you did the right thing." 

Connor watches as Hank makes his way back to his car, and your eyes follow along as well though your feet remain glued to the ground. 

The lost look on Connor's face draws a soft sigh from your lips, though it's more of a tired sigh than upset.

You step up to his side and grab one of his hands gently, glad that they're warm enough to keep yours from the harshness of the icy air, squeezing it in your own in what you hope is a comforting way.

"C'mon Connor. Let's... let's head back to the station..." You trail off, not really sure what else to say, giving his hand another gentle squeeze before walking him back to the car with you.

"Why don't you sit in the back with me this time? It's easier to think when you've got someone else close by."

He doesn't protest in the slightest, just letting you walk with him back to the car, his hand still clutched in your own lightly. 

When you try to let go, he only holds on tighter and pulls you back into his side, so you don't attempt to pull away again and just reach for the door handle with your one free hand. 

"I'm proud of you Connor." And, someday, you hope he'll be proud of himself too. 


	16. Come With Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh fuck, I'm so excited for the next chapter. I'm going to edit that shit so good that even I might like it a few weeks from now. I've had a lot of ideas floating around in my head to make the next chapter better, and now I'm gonna get a chance to use all of them.  
> The next chapter is going to be very long, longer than this one, so I may possibly take an extra day to update again? We'll see.  
> ALSO, 100 KUDOS! Thank you everyone!!!!

Hank, like before, is the one charged with driving you around and, in this case, getting the three of you back to the station.

Your car is still parked outside your place, so for now you're going to have to depend on him to drive you around.

Connor rode in the back with you like you suggested before leaving Kamski's place, though he was quiet for the majority of the ride. Occasionally, you'd see his LED turn yellow and his eyebrows furrow, but you assume that's just because he's having trouble wrapping his head around what happened earlier. 

Another thing you found kind of interesting is the fact that he, quite literally, would not let go of your hand. He held it in his lap for the duration of the ride to the station, occasionally rubbing his thumb along the back of your hand like you would with him. 

After the three of you arrive, Hank looks back and raises an eyebrow at you, but you just shrug your shoulders an unbuckle your seatbelt. 

You all head inside and sit at your respective desks after everyone files out of the car

You get straight to turning your terminal on, and, knowing that it'll take at least five minutes for it to boot up, you push off from your desk and go straight to the kitchenette to get some coffee. 

Luckily, there's already some in the pot so you can just pour some and go on your way.

"Well if it isn't Detective L/N. We haven't seen you here in a few days now, have we?" Gavin's mocking voice comes from behind you, and when you turn, you see him standing there at a table with some of his own coffee. "Taking vacation days already?"

"No, I've been doing real police work, actually." 

That jab at him makes him frown, but he doesn't acknowledge it. "Where's our plastic friend, eh?"

"Oh hush." You step away from the counter and move to leave, planning on making an epic exit, only to bump your hip into another smaller counter and drop your paper coffee cup onto the ground. 

You stare down at the spreading liquid for 5 or so seconds, then look over at the hysterical Gavin with a blank expression. 

"Don't look at me, I didn't put that counter there." He gasps out after laughing super loudly and obnoxiously, drawing the attention of passerby's. 

Footsteps catch your attention and, when you look to see who it is, Chris, Hank, and Connor are all standing there to see what all the commotion is. 

"Your day's been that bad?" Chris asks with a chuckle, grabbing some napkins from the counter you bumped into to help you clean it up. What a darling. 

You purse your lips and try to determine your next course of action, and, ultimately, decide to give up. "Alright then, that settles it. If anyone needs me I will be jumping off the roof."

"Come on Y/N, don't be that way!" Hank calls, laughing now as well after your admission of wanting the sweet clutches of death to finally claim you. 

"Detective, if I may interject, jumping off of the roof will most certainly result in death." Connor looks kind of upset, probably because he doesn't understand that kinda humor, but his concern is cute. 

"That's the point." You finally get down and help Chris clean up the mess you made, feeling none too embarrassed now. 

Hank and Gavin guffaw and giggle very unmanly-like some more, Chris throws you a sympathetic expression, and Connor continues to look more and more concerned. 

"I-I don't believe this is a laughing matter-" Connor is interrupted by Hank laughing even _harder._

You and Chris finish clean up in another 10 or so seconds, then you return to your feet and stare at Gavin and Hank with a deadpan look.

This is a very messed up situation that you are really not into. I mean come on. First your coffee spills, then Gavin laughs at you, then everyone else comes in to laugh at you as well! This is so fucked. 

Gavin slaps his knee and nudges Hank in the side, and Hank just claps his back like they're best buds or something. 

"Okay okay, har har- shut the fuck up." You don't even try to mask the bitterness in your voice, though you can't help the slight amusement from peeking through. 

You pat Chris' back gratefully, then walk out without another word and go to your desk.

It's all loaded up once you sit down on your swivel chair, so you proceed to look over the new cases you've received in your time of investigation and absence. It appears like there are even more cases than when you first started which is rather discouraging since you guys started with over 400. 

You certainly didn't miss the paperwork aspect of your job during these past few days where you had to do little more than the fun stuff, but you just have to suck it up and get it done.

The glass keyboard clicks and clacks loudly while you type away at your report, completely unable to hide your boredom. 

The fact that Connor doesn't need to make physical reports fills you with a childish sort of envy, because damnit you wanna do that! It's easy, clean, and simple. 

You can't help the pout adorning your face as you read over the notes you jotted down in your notebook during the investigations. If only you could be out on the field all the time instead of stuck here doing boring stuff.

Of course, you'd rather do this boring stuff than have another Eden Club investigation. 

Your deprecative thoughts are interrupted at the soft sound of something being placed on your desk.

You glance up sharply with your eyebrows furrowed, surprised to see Connor standing there with his hand still on the cup he placed down on your desk. "I got you some coffee, Detective." 

⇑ (Y/N)

A smile takes over your face after he explains his actions because, man, that's so sweet. 

"Aw, you didn't have to do that. Thank you so much, Connor." You can't help but sound a bit sheepish, mostly because you're afraid that you're taking advantage of his willingness to help you out.

"It's okay. I wanted to, Y/N. Now you don't have to jump from the roof."

That makes you pause. 

"Uhm, what?"

"Earlier, you said you would jump off the roof." 

Oh- oops. 

"Gosh, no. That was a joke- I swear I wasn't actually going to jump off the roof over coffee!" You feel your face heating up and an undeniable embarrassment for not explaining it to him sooner. He really thought you were gonna die over spilt coffee- that's embarrassing. 

His LED spins yellow for a moment before realization dawns upon him. "Oh. Well, good. It was a very funny joke." 

You can't help the puff of laughter that bursts from your mouth, a smile upturning the corners of your lips. After a moment of the two of you awkwardly looking at each other, you slide your arm across the surface of your desk and lightly grab his hand before he can retract from the coffee cup.

"Connor, thank you. Really. You've done a lot for me, and I want you to know I appreciate you." You let that sink in for a moment, feeling a fleeting sense of happiness when he squeezes your hand. "I'll be done with my reports in a few hours. So I'll take you home after..." You trail off, realizing that you're assuming he wants to go back with you. You try to remedy this by adding slowly, "If you want to- you don't have to. I don't know why I said that..." 

"Yes, I can wait for you to finish. I've yet to finish that book I started last night." 

A smile brightens your face when he alludes to his acceptance of joining you back at your home again, feeling your anxiousness and worries melt away. 

Captain Fowler's booming voice suddenly erupts from his office, and, unfortunately, you're unable to stop yourself from flinching.

"Hank, Y/N, my office!" 

Why does this remind you of your first day being assigned as Connors partners? 

You quickly let go of Connor's hand and look back at your terminal, making sure to save all your progress, then you get up and push your chair in.

Hank groans dramatically from behind you as he too rises from his chair, following you and Connor as you pass him and walk up the little steps to his office.

You decide to stand in front of his desk instead of sit down this time around with the assumption that this'll be quick, and, when you turn, your head to glance at your partners, you're surprised to see Connor's LED's yellow and his eyes are closed. Moments later his eyes flutter open again and his LED returns to its' usual blue.

You direct your attention back to the Captain who is sitting on his desk instead of his seat, a stance that makes you nervous. Nothing good ever follows such body language.

"You're off the case." Is all he says.

Four little words that make your heart drop to your stomach and empties your lungs of all its' air. 

Your eyes go wide, but despite you're shock you can guess what his next words are going to be.

"The FBI is taking over." There it is. 

Hank's arms are crossed and the frown on his face shows you just how unhappy he really is. He wastes no time in voicing his own shock and disapproval. "What..? But we're onto something!"

You nod your head in agreement, adding on, "Just yesterday we got a few new leads- we've got all this evidence, we just need some more time to link everything together!" 

"We-we just need more time. I'm sure we can-" He doesn't even get a chance to finish that thought before he's swiftly cut off by Fowler.

"Hank, Y/N. You don't get it. This isn't just another investigation, it's a fucking civil war."

You look away, grabbing your arm as you glare at the ground and fight the pressure building up behind your eyes.

"It's out of our hands now... we're talking about national security here."

He's right, of course, because in the grand scheme of things this is much bigger than just the Detroit Police Department; that doesn't mean you should be taken off all together, though.

"Fuck that! You can't just pull the plug now. Not when we're so close!"

You shift around uncomfortably, distributing your weight from foot to foot while looking up again at Fowler when he yells back.

"You're always saying you can't stand androids! Jesus Hank make up your mind!" He pauses to take a quick breath, sounding incredulous at the complete 180 Hank's completed since Saturday, "I thought you'd be happy about this!"

Hank's already talking over him before the Captain can finish his sentence, voicing the very desperation that you're feeling. "We're about to crack the case! I know we can solve it!" He shakes his head when Fowler's expression doesn't change, then he leans a bit closer, the intensity in his expression unwavering. "For God's sake, Jeffrey, can't you back me up just this one time?"

You let out a soft sigh, for the look on the Captains face as Hank practically begs him for help speaks lengths on its' own.

"There's nothing I can do. You're both back on homicide, and the android returns to CyberLife." To be fair to the Captain, he does genuinely sound like he's sorry, like he wants to help. His hands are tied, and there's nothing he can do.

You look over at Connor quickly when Fowler declares his to-be departure, your eyes widening a bit as your heart aches painfully.

"I'm sorry, Hank, but it's over." 

You don't want to hear any more, you can't so you turn on your heel and storm out of the room.

An overwhelming feeling of _failure_ washes over you, swiftly followed by dread upon considering the implications of your failure. You and Hank are being put back on homicide, Connor is going to be taken away, and you're going to have this monumental disappointment on your record forever, holding you back.

You failed your case, Connor is going to leave, and you're going to go back to how things were before; depressed with a suicidal partner whom you could lose at any time. 

You sit down at the seat next to Hank's desk, resting your elbows on the desk and burying your fingers in your hair. A sudden urge to yank on your hair by the roots passes you by, but that nervous habit has been denounced by the department shrink on many occasions, so you hold yourself back. 

Hank collapses onto his seat with a heavy sigh, sounding just as defeated as you feel.

You drop your hands heavily onto the desk with a loud thump.

"I know, kid..." He can sense your sadness from a mile away, thus the reason for his dad senses kicking in.

Connor eventually comes over and sits down on the desk to your left, his expression showing that he's just as troubled as you and Hank.

There's a small moment of silence that spreads out thickly between the three of you, suffocating and simply awful; then Connor speaks up, "We can't just give up like that. I know we could have solved this case!"

You look down again, finding it hard to look at either of them, and nod your head in agreement. 

The worst part about all of this, you suppose, is the fact that everything you've done and seen these last few days has now been for nothing. Those girls at the Eden Club, Carlos Ortiz's android, the blond deviant from Stratford Tower- it's all worthless, a waste, and good for nothing. 

Hank sets his hand down on his desk and looks up at Connor, leaning back in his seat before speaking, "So, you're going back to Cyberlife?"

You advert your gaze and stress at your bottom lip with your teeth. There is no obvious solution for this mess, but, unfortunately, you don't have time to figure anything out either. 

"I have no choice... I'll be deactivated and analyzed to find out why I failed..."

Your hands slip from the desk and on to your lap, the truth of it all making your heart hurt. Your finger nails dig into your work pants and pinch into your skin as you grab your knees tightly.

"Thats fucked up..." There's nothing else for you to say other than that, because nothing else can accurately describe how you really feel about this.

Hank's next words are ones you never would've expected to hear from his mouth, words shocking enough to make you turn your head quickly with an expression that displays your surprise.

"What if we're on the wrong side?" He lowers his voice and says it quietly as if he's afraid someone will overhear, something else surprising. 

This is the exact thing you've been wondering since day one, but hearing it come from Hank himself has, for the first time, makes your concerns feel valid. There's also the fact that he mentions this after Connor admits what'll happen to him when he returns. Is he worried? 

"What if we're fighting against people who just want to be free?"

You nod your head vigorously and stop clawing at your knees, looking at him with a hint of a smile on your face. "Who knew it'd take our new partner leaving for you to agree with me." You're trying to be lighthearted, though it isn't easy. 

Connor, however, seems to have a different opinion on the matter.

"When the deviants rise up, there will be chaos. We could have stopped it." Connor leans a bit closer while he says it, and it seems like he really believes it. "But now it's too late..."

You only half agree with what he's saying, but even though you don't think he's completely right, you do still understand.

"When you refused to kill that android at Kamski's place... you put yourself in her shoes. You showed empathy, Connor. Empathy is a human emotion."

Got him there.

You roll the chair closer to the both of them and look up at Connor curiously, not outwardly showing your support in Hank's statement.

Connor glances off to the side, though he doesn't turn his head, and reflects on Hank's words. "I don't know why I did it..." There's that troubled voice again as he shakes his head and resumes his previous leaned back stance. 

"I'm not programmed to say things like this, but... I really appreciated working with you two." He smiles down at you, then at Hank. "With a little more time, who knows... we might've even all been friends..."

⇑ (Y/N)

⇑ (Hank)

Hank makes a bit of a face, but you can tell that he doesn't actually dislike the idea of it. 

You can't keep the sad smile from your face, but you don't bother trying to hide it like Hank does. 

"Well, well, here comes Perkins, that motherfucker... sure don't waste any time at the FBI."

You turn your head and glare in his general direction, resentment darkening your previously bright features. "Of-freaking-course he's the one to get our case. I did some research on this prick, and it turns out he's a completely ruthless douche. Makes me sick." It's true, you did do a bit of digging. His record is not a pretty one- though he does get the job done. You sigh heavily and push away from the desk, standing up once you've got enough room. 

Connor's urgent voice makes you pause, though, and return your attention to him.

"We can't give up...! I know the answer is in the evidence we collected. If Perkins takes it, it's all over."

You're actually pretty surprised (and slightly impressed) by his sudden outburst, but you don't disagree with his assessment.

"There's no choice! You heard Fowler, we're off the case."

Your muscles twitch involuntarily when Connor shoots to his feet suddenly, his urgency transferring to you before you even know what he's going to propose.

"You've got to help me! We need more time so we can find a lead in the evidence we collected. I know the solution is in there somewhere."

You bite your lip and think it over for a moment, finding it difficult to disagree or protest. Maybe, if you guys manage to find the answer to everything, then Connor won't be decommissioned.

But if you want to pull this off, you'll need Hank's help.

"Hank... I think he's right. We can't give up", Your expression is, no doubt, desperate, but maybe that'll make him more inclined to offer a helping hand. 

"Listen... Connor, Y/N-"

For what is probably the first time ever, Connor interrupts Hank. "If we don't solve this case, CyberLife will destroy me. Five minutes, thats all I ask."

He sounds just as desperate as you feel and look, an underlying sense of fear lurking in the depths of his plea for help. He doesn't want to be shut down, he wants to _live_ , and even though it might only be for the mission it's still better than nothing. 

You chew on your bottom lip for a moment, bracing yourself for Hank's denial of assistance, but are pleasantly surprised by his response.

Hank seems to finally be caving in, for he gets up slowly and leans in close enough so that only you and Connor can hear him. "Key to the basement is on my desk..." Neither of you do anything at first, so Hank adds snippily, "Get a move on! I can't distract them forever... Y/N, go with him, make sure he stays out of trouble."

You smile brightly and swipe his key from the desk after he turns, watching him as he trudges away and towards Perkins. This isn't going to end well for the FBI rat man. 

Connor looks down at you just as you glance back up at him, a silent exchange passing between the two of you.

You nod once in confirmation, then hurry off towards the Archive Room down the hall just to the right of Hanks desk.

You place the key in Connor's hand, unable to stop the sudden burst of laughter upon hearing Hank yell from the other room, "Perkins! You fucking cocksucker!"

The two of you briskly make your way to your destination with you trailing a bit behind to keep an eye out for anyone that might pop in and ask unwanted questions; kind of an unspoken role change that you two discussed before coming here. 

You walk over to the door and stand to the right of Connor as he unlocks the door, a nervous expression worrying at your mouth and eyebrows.

"Where're you goin'?"

You recognize that obnoxious voice right away.

You turn your head to face the sneering Detective Reed, an unamused and unfriendly blank stare directed at him on your part.

"We don't need plastic pricks around here! Or did no one tell you?"

You step forward and jab an accusatory finger to his chest, looking up at him with no semblance of pleasantry. "Go away, Gavin. Why can't you just leave him alone?"

Connor turns his gaze towards the two of you, his hand still on the door handle which he has already unlocked.

"Why are you always defending this asshole? Don't you got any respect for yourself?" The condescending tone is strong with this one. 

God, why can't he just be civil? He's never this much of a douche around you normally (he is still one sometimes, and sometimes overly flirty), but something about androids turns him into an uncivilized jerk. 

"What the fuck are you two doing anyways?" Gavin reaches up and grabs your hand, shoving it back to your chest and, consequently, pushing you back and into Connor.

The brown-haired android grabs your arms gently when you're forced back, but he just looks at Gavin with an even expression and explains calmly. "We've been taken off the case... we're going to register the evidence in our possession, and then I will leave."

You glare up at Gavin as he approaches and leans in with that infuriatingly smug expression on his face.

"Good. But be careful on your way back... androids have a tendency of, huh, getting themselves set on fire these days..."

You reach up and shove him back a bit (he's too close) but don't go any further and instead, turn back to Connor. "Let's go."

Connor opens up the door to the Archive Room and steps in with you following close behind as Detective Reed walks off, grumbling about androids and you being nonsensical. 

The two of you walk into the room, bypass the glass security door, and make your way to the evidence panel - the one that summons evidence from various cases.

You place the palm of your hand on the panel gently, imputing your password as soon as the option pops up.

A 'new wall' holding all the evidences from your investigations slides up, thus revealing to you the deviant from your first case with Connor, the deviant who shot himself on the roof of the Stratford Tower, regular evidence in the middle, and an unknown android to the far left. 

You rub the back of your neck and approach the wall of items, not seeing any obvious connection right off the bat.

Nothing jumps out at you right away, though ideally the answer would just slap you in the face.

"What should we do..?" You ask after a couple moments of observing.

Connor rotates his head towards you, then back to the wall. "The answer is here somewhere... we just need to focus."

You don't say anything and just gaze back up at it all, your eyebrows furrowed together while you try to come up with a conclusion.

Connor strides towards the blond-haired android from the roof of the Stratford tower, though he doesn't do anything right away; you're assuming he's scanning him.

You rub at the back of your head and just stand in front of the solid evidence in the middle of the wall, your eyes being drawn by the brown statuette.

Something entices you to pick it up, but when you do, nothing enlightening or super interesting happens; it's literally just a statue, unmoving, a little creepy, and just as humanoid as the first time you saw it. 

However, you have the sudden desire to shake it, wondering if it's solid all the way through or hollow, and are surprised to hear a soft rattling sound. It's so quiet that you thought you imagined it at first, but when you shake it again, this time a bit harder, you hear it again. 

You raise your head and look over at Connor, seeing him already looking at you and the statue, and offer it up to him. 

"There's something inside- I think." If you're wrong then you don't want to act so certain, that'll be embarrassing. 

Connor accepts the statuette and holds it close to his ear, shaking it himself to hear the noise up close. He looks at you quickly when he hears it, then back at the statue. 

For a moment, nothing happens; then, he raises it and smashes it against the edge of one of the evidence counters. 

It doesn't shatter like you thought it would, because instead the top just breaks off and reveals a white paper wedged in the thicker part of the statue, right in the middle and folded perfectly. 

Honestly, you weren't expecting that to actually be anything, but you're really glad that it was. 

He reaches in and takes the paper out, discarding the rest of the statue before unfolding said paper and scanning it over with furrowed eyebrows and an inquisitive stare. 

Nothing is said on his part, but when he's done looking it over, he hands it to you and moves to stand in front of another one of the androids. 

As much as you'd like to ask him what he's up to, you don't want to risk disrupting his line of thought; therefore, you remain silent and just hold your hands behind your back.

He rips something out of the deviant from the interrogation, some sort of component, but you momentarily forget about that because you don't remember him dying.

His head appears to have been bashed in, but he was supposed to be transported to CyberLife following his interrogation; so something happened between the end of the interrogation and the day after. What happened exactly? You haven't got a clue. 

Connor steps back and moves in front of the deactivated blond again, inserting the thing he took out of the other into his neck or something like that. 

Suddenly, his head shoots up, and turns back and fourth a bit as if he's searching for something.

Those previously lifeless eyes of his are now dully glowing, but there are no whites, irises, or pupils; just a soft, complete grey. It seems like he can't see. 

"It's dark... where-where am I?"

Concern settles on your face upon hearing the undeniable fear in his voice, so you look over at Connor to see what he's up to. This situation is very heavily reminding you of the Traci and the Eden Club, but you try to hide your discomfort when Connor looks over at you in return.

His eyes scan over your face for a few seconds before he inspects the previously dead android and speaks, "I need to find Jericho. Tell me how to get there."

Ah, so he's going for the tricksy route. 

You chew none too gently on your bottom lip when Connor starts his deceptive techniques, wrapping your arms around yourself while you wait for him to finish his little interrogation.

"I don't... recognize your voice..." He's quiet for a few moments before continuing, his voice more frantic and upset, "You're not one of us! I'll never tell you where Jericho is! Leave me alone!" And then there is silence once more.

Your gaze flickers back over to Connor expectantly, your worried eyebrows and chewed pink lip showing just how worried you really are. You stay completely silent, though, since you can't afford to give anything away incase he's planning something.

Connor looks back at you, the frustration evident on his features before he strides back over to the middle of the wall where you found that little white paper. 

He lifts up the small screen with the deviant, Markus', speech from the broadcast. He turns it on, staring at it intently for a few moments before he begins to speak, though not in a way you were expecting.

His voice is distorted and odd for a few moments before transforming into the same voice as the deviant leader.

You furrow your eyebrows again as he approaches the deviant once more, confidence and certainty exuding from his very being. It seems like he's found the perfect solution for tricking the poor man.

The blond opens his sightless eyes back up once more, fear and worry twisting his once smooth features, "Who's there..? Who are you?" His voice is a bit faint, but also unsure; it makes your heart throb painfully, guiltily.

"Everything is all right... don't worry." He sounds just like the android from the video, so much so that you involuntarily shiver uneasily.

"Markus? Is that you? Why did you leave me?"

He sounds so desperate, so lost and _sad_. It makes you feel more like an antagonist than a good cop.

"I had no choice, they'd have killed us all... you'll be alright. I came to take you home." He pauses for a second, glancing over at you before hitting on the question of the hour, "Just... give me the location to Jericho. We need to leave now..."

You glance back and towards the door, worried that someone might waltz right in during the most crucial moment.

"Jericho... y-yes, yes of course."

The android seems to be a lot less tense and suspicious, so Connor reaches up and grabs his outstretched arm.

You watch as his hand turns white upon contact, noting the way his eyelids flutter and his LED briefly flashes yellow as the information is transferred from the blond to Connor. 

He lets him go after a couple moments, about to leave, when the blond-haired android reaches out and grabs his shoulder, no seeming a lot less certain and comfortable.

"Markus? Is... that you, Markus? Don't leave me again, Markus! Don't leave-!" He's cut off abruptly as Connor pulls something out of him, silencing him permanently this time.

You look away sharply and squeeze your arms, that shame and guilt burning you from the inside out.

This really isn't right. Not at all, but at the same time if you don't do something then Connor will have to go. He would die; and you want that even less than you want this. 

Connor spins around to you with a triumphant smile, looking very proud of himself despite what he had to do to extract that information. "I got it! The location to Jericho. Perkins will be here any minute, so we have to leave now. Is that okay?"

You nod your head as your reply, then speed off over to the door.

First, you open it, poking your head out just to make sure no one is already on their way down the hall, then you open the door up wider for him to pass through.

He nods at you gratefully but doesn't linger to actually say it.

The two of you walk to the entrance of the Archive Hall briskly, though you do your best to remain composed in order to avoid looking suspicious or like you're up to something (which you are).

You take hold of Connor's arm gently while following him out the door, then down the little path that runs in front of Fowlers office that also connects to the hall leading to the entrance. Upon passing Gavin's desk, you duck your head down to avoid being seen, catching sight of Perkins heading towards the Archive Room from Fowlers office moments after the two of you leave.

The two of you exit the building and speed out into the parking lot, Hank's car nowhere to be seen. He was, no doubt, sent home and suspended for fucking up Perkins like that (you saw his bloodied nose), so you'll have to take a taxi. 

You look up at him with a frown and inform him softly so as to avoid being overheard, "Connor, we need to take a taxi."

"Yes, Hank appears to have been sent home." 

You pull your phone out of your pocket and call a driverless taxi using an online app, tapping your foot impatiently while the order processes. 

A thought then strikes you.

"We should go to my apartment first. I can get you a change of clothes, and then we can go. Is that okay?"

He gazes down at you with a thoughtful expression on his face, nodding his head slowly to display his agreement.

He doesn't seem bothered by your grip on his arm either, which you have failed to release still.

"Alright... however, we need to set out as soon as possible. They'll think to check your apartment, especially after what Hank did, and..." He trails off, an unpleasant revelation darkening his features. "You'll be arrested for insubordination and tampering with evidence..."

You sigh quietly upon hearing that truth bomb, very much _not_ wanting to be arrested, but that's the only possible outcome now.

The taxi arrives in just a few minutes thankfully, and, as soon as it does, you put in your address and finally settle, taking a moment just take a breath and relax.

Now that the excitement is over and all you've got left is to wait, you finally acknowledge his conclusion from just a moment ago.

"I guess I will get arrested... that kind of sucks." You run a hand through your slightly unruly hair, and direction your attention over at him completely. You cross your legs and sit sideways on the seat, facing him fully. "As long as they don't find you... then I'm okay with that." 

It may sound crazy, but it's true. 

At most, you'll get a heavy suspension or demotion, but if they catch him, he'll be killed- destroyed, whatever. You can't risk that, not when he's so close, not when you're so deep in your feelings for him. 

His expression morphs from neutral to upset when you confess your willingness to take a proverbial bullet for him. "I can't let that happen to you, Y/N. I...," he looks at war with himself when he pauses, but ultimately comes to a decision, "I want you to come with me."

He notices the hesitance in your expression right away, and it's only more prominent when you start to protest.

"Connor..."

He shakes his head and grabs one of your hands in his, holding it tight and pulling it up to his chest.

The drive is so smooth that when he leans forward while you lean backwards, neither of you lose balance.

Your back presses against the door of the automated taxi, but he moves a bit closer regardless with a grave countenance.

"No! I... I mean... I can't let you get arrested because I'm trying to finish my mission. I can... keep you safe. I will. And once I complete it CyberLife won't deactivate me and you won't be arrested." 

⇑ (Y/N)

His hand still clutches your own, and he's so _close_ to your face you can even pick out all the small freckles and indentations on his skin. CyberLife really did think of everything.

"I..." You're at a loss for words, and you can't think up a coherent argument either; so you eventually concede. "... Okay." You nod your head slowly, looking up at him with soft eyes and a small, sad smile.

You reach up and wrap your other arm (the one with the hand not caught in his own) around him, closing your eyes with your cheek pressed against his.

"I'll go with you and keep you safe too, okay?" Your voice is quiet and whispery, having no need for a normal volume since you're so close.

He nods his head slightly, his hold on your hand tightening for a moment before he lets it go and wraps his arms around your waist.

Your, now freed, arm follows suit, and his forehead pressing lightly against yours brings a smile to your face; though you don't open your eyes.

The two of you just sit there in silence, waiting for the ride to be over.

You aren't sure what this means for either of you, but you push those doubts away for now and just let yourself enjoy this. Mainly because you aren't sure if you'll ever get another chance to.

\---

\- (Y/N- Companion)

\- (Hank- Friend)


	17. The Calm Before the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this chapter is short as fuck and it's been three day's, but that's actually because this segment was originally part of a 11,000+ chapter that I'm still working on. So here's this, and I'll update again either tomorrow or the day after. The next chapter will literally be so fucking long I promise it'll make up for it.  
> Additionally, Press F to regret killing Simon

It doesn't take very long for the taxi to arrive at your apartment, around 10 minutes at the most, but it feels so much faster with the impending conflict that awaits you both by the end of the night.

You ended up laying against him with your head pressed against his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around you; a very intimate moment.

You still don't know what any of this will mean for the both of you, especially since this is a very human thing that he's really not supposed to be doing, but for once you're not going to let all the uncertainties ruin the moment; this moment. 

Eventually the taxi does arrive at your apartment, but now that you're here you've gotta be quick to avoid getting caught once they figure out what you're doing. 

You get up slowly, removing his arms around you with much care and gentle touches.

"C'mon Connor." Your voice is soft when you coax him to follow you, but he does as such without any hesitation so the gentleness isn't exactly necessary. 

The taxi door slides open and the automated voice inside thanks you for riding with them, an implicating demand for the passengers to screw off, so you slowly get out of the car and pull your keys out of your pocket.

The two of you have 1 hour at the most to get everything you need to, done, which should be more than enough time. Of course, you're not wanting to hang around for that entire hour to find out, though, so you go straight towards the steps leading up to your floor.

Your ascent up the stairs is much faster than your exit of the car, but you don't wait around for Connor this time either. 

The air is just as cold, if not colder, than it has been for the past week, so as soon as you take a breath outside the warmth of the taxi, a puff of mist blows from your mouth. The air is so cold your lungs burn when you breathe in, and you have to blink rapid fire to avoid your watery eyes from freezing over (not genuinely). 

Once you're in front of your door and the keycard has been swiped, the door unlocks with a click and is ready for you to pull it open, which you do. 

You step in slowly, scanning the main entrance just to make sure nothing is amiss or odd. Everything's in place and the door was still locked, so there isn't actually a reason to be so paranoid, but there's always a chance that they beat you here... somehow, possibly.

There is no evidence that they've come to your apartment yet, so there isn't any reason for you to worry.

Upon realizing this, you walk in further and leave the door open for Connor to enter.

"I have some changes of clothes that I keep for Hank in the coat closet by my office. Wear what you want... I'm going to change as well." You look at him over your shoulder, noting that ever present troubled expression on his face that you've grown used to as of late. 

A small, uncertain smile is your only response, and it's all you really need; you're on a time crunch after all.

The door to your bedroom closes behind you silently when you walk in and shut it behind you, and your carpet scratches against the bottom of your feet as you make a beeline for your closet.

Your goal is to find something completely different than your current attire, hoping to avoid being recognized as well as desiring something much warmer.

Going through your closet proves fruitful, for you change into a pair of black jeans and a dark blue sweater, also grabbing a fuzzy black hat and gloves to keep your ears and fingers nice and warm.

The police could arrive at any time, every second that ticks by brings you both closer to the possibility of your apartment being raided and the both of you being arrested. 

After what seems to be about five minutes, you rush out of your room and look around for Connor, hoping that he's done so you guys can get the hell out of here.

The coat closet door by your office is open and you catch a glimpse of the outline of Connor moving around; he's also changing- or maybe just covering his usual attire.

You scamper on over to catch a look at him once you're sure he's decent, curious as to what he chose to wear.

He's really layered up, and you assume it's because he's wearing his normal clothes underneath everything else. He has baggy jeans, a heavy leather jacket with a grey over-sized turtleneck underneath, and a pair of brown boots that Hank left at your apartment a few weeks back. 

He looks great, but there's something missing; a hat, perhaps. 

You reach past him and swipe a black beanie (this one is actually yours) from a hook on the door, then you stand up on your toes and place it on his head snugly.

"Here. Warm ears are best ears." You're not sure if he can even feel cold, but you just smile up at him in an attempt to lighten the mood.

It appears like he doesn't quite get it, though he smiles at you nonetheless and bends over slightly so you can reach his head easier.

The sun hasn't begun to set as of yet, though it will begin to around 7:20ish. A quick glance down at the clock on the table next to your closet shows that it's already 6:09 P.M. Oh how the time flies when you're paranoid about becoming fugitives. 

What needs to be done now is some good, old fashioned planning. 

He has the map to Jericho, but you can't just jump into it. You need to plan what you're going to do and how you're going to do it; nothing can be left to chance, nor can you afford to waste any time running around without a clue of what to do next. 

You slide your hands down and gently pat the side of his face after properly securing the beanie, realizing that you were messing with the position of the garment a bit _too_ much.

"Ahem, well, I think we should take some time and plan our next move. You know where Jericho is, right?" There's a bit of a nervous edge to your voice, but if Connor notices, he doesn't show it. 

"I don't have the exact location, but I received a map of sorts from that deviant I spoke with." He stands back up to his full height while telling you this, though he doesn't step away from you.

At his mention of the blond deviant from the evidence room, you grimace. It was rather disturbing to see him steal another man's voice to trick a friend of his, though you know he had no other choice; it's really complicated, and it makes you _feel_ complicated too. 

"What do you mean by 'a map of sorts'?" You wonder out loud, dropping your hands to your sides as he straightens up. 

"I was provided with some sort of... encoded picture. It appears to be some sort of graffiti with clues inside." 

Well, that does make sense, kinda. 

You nod your head to display your understanding, then take a step back away from him to grab a couple things you may need. 

The first thing you go for is your police issued gun which you left on the hallway table when you walked in, and, after securing the holster around your waist and under your sweater, you retrieve your secondary weapon which was buried beneath a pile of clothes in the hall closet. 

For a moment, you consider giving it to him right now, but ultimately decide to hold onto it until it's time to use it. Maybe there'll be no need for it by the time you get there; maybe he'll change his mind. 

It feels a little weird to have your holster on as well as an additional gun tucked away and cool against your back in the waistband of your pants. 

Hopefully you won't need to even pull out the second gun. 

You glance back to see if Connor noticed what you're up to, but his back is facing you while he focuses on something else. 

It's best that he doesn't know about it for now, so you say nothing and just approach him like normal. 

"Do you know where we're going first?" 

"I'm not sure yet. I'm cross-referencing the graffiti with photos in my database as we speak. It may take some time." He certainly doesn't look or sound like he's going through thousands of photos; how impressive.

"You're so cool." You say it wistfully with heavy admiration in your voice, but feel embarrassed immediately after since it's kind of lame on your part. 

His LED flickers yellow for just a second before he smiles almost sheepishly. Is that flattery you see? 

"Thank you, Y/N. I appreciate hearing that from you." 

Specifically from you? Ooh.

You open your mouth to insist that he needn't thank you, only to freeze when your phone begins to buzz. 

A quick look at the caller ID only shows that it's an unknown number, but you seldom want it to go to voicemail, so you answer it. 

You lift the flat electronic up to your ear once you answer the call and ask hesitantly, "Hello..? Who is this?"

You look up at Connor who no longer has a smile on his face and instead looks concerned.

The reply you receive makes your blood run cold.

"Detective L/N, this is your only chance to come clean and turn yourself and that android in. Don't be stupid."

You vaguely recognize the voice, but you don't reply and just hang up on them.

Your eyes are wide when you look up at Connor, and he looks just as bewildered as you.

"They found out a lot faster than I thought they would." You breath, on the verge of panic. 

You don't know what to do about this, mainly because you've never broken the law or evaded arrest before. You've only ever been the person chasing lawbreakers, but being on the opposite side is definitely not a pleasant feeling.

The tightness in your chest is suffocating and slightly painful, and you feel like you're hanging on by only a thread. 

It's too late to go back now, but even if it wasn't you don't think you could. If you just give up, who knows what'll happen, what'll happen to your badge and your partnership with Hank. They could transfer you, suspend you, fire you, demote you, any number of things; but one this is for certain, Connor will die if you choose the cowardly way. 

"You need to leave your phone here since it's easily trackable; your car can be tracked too, so we will have to take a taxi..." He pauses when he notices the panicked expression you're making, so, in an attempt to comfort you, he grabs your upper arms gently, "Y/N, look at me." Connor's calming, soft voice startles you from your stupor, and you do look at him like he asked. "I know that this is hard for you right now, but I need you to remain calm. Nothing will happen to you as long as I am here, and once I complete my mission, we will be alright. I _promise_." 

Something about the way he says it, about the assurance and emphasis on 'promise,' is comforting, so you take a deep breath and nod shallowly, relaxing under his careful touch.

"Y-You're right- I'm sorry." You can't help but apologize, because the last thing you guys need right now is for you to have a mental breakdown. 

He smiles at you sadly almost when you apologize, though he knows you probably wont want him to acknowledge it so he instead remains silent. 

You're silent for a moment, gaze trained downward at your feet while you scavenge what remains of your composure, and sigh quietly after a moment, placing one of your hands over his. You're grateful for his attempts at comforting you, but you choose not to mention it outright. "Alright... alright let's go, can you call a taxi?"

He nods his head as you step back, allowing his arms to fall back to his sides again. "I'll wait for you at the front door." 

You hum your acknowledgement and glance around quickly, trying to figure out if there's anything else you're missing or may need. It hen occurs to you that a pocket knife may be useful, so, you stride purposefully to a cabinet in your kitchen and pull out a folding pocket knife with a 2 and a half inch stainless steel, black blade and a black handle. It's really nice, a gift from Hank, something that you bring with you from time to time. 

Putting on a pair of nice snow boots and grabbing your big coat to bundled yourself up only take a minute, so, before you know it, you're basically ready to go.

You already know you're going to be stuck outside for quite a bit, so you figure wearing a big jacket will make this an easier feat.

Your keys rest on the table where your gun holster had been discarded, so you grab and shove them into one of the deep pockets of your sweater, taking another moment to glance around incase there's anything else you may possibly need. 

Upon noticing that there is nothing else of interest, you call, "I'm ready," and join him at the front. 

Connor nods his head in confirmation and opens up the door, walking out first to look around and make sure you have no special company.

As soon as the door opens a glacial gust smacks you right in the face, making you shiver and your eyes burn. It's cold; everything is cold; hell, even the air _smells_ cold, and you don't like it one bit. 

You scurry down the stairs after him and go straight over to the taxi that just arrived.

Luckily, since Connor called the taxi, nobody will be able to trace your movements. They don't have access to his software as far as you know. 

You slide into the back of the driverless lift and sigh softly, relieved that you'll finally get a proper moment to plan and figure things out.

You rub the back of your neck and observe as Connor slips into the seat next to you effortlessly.

Now that you're actually actively heading somewhere, you figure it alright to ask, "Where are we going, exactly..?"

There's no reason for him to be secretive about it since it was him who insisted that you come along, this being the reason you're comfortable asking in the first place; otherwise, you would've thought it best not to know. 

Connor lifts up his hand and, at first, nothing happens; then a picture of graffiti on a wall shows up, definitely the stuff he mentioned earlier.

"We're going here... those clues I mentioned in the graffiti will lead us to Jericho- though, I don't know how many there will be." 

That sounds simple enough, but this is a path made for androids; you'll probably have a tough time trying to keep up.

You don't voice your concern, however, and only nod your head.

You lean your head back and looked up at the ceiling of the taxi silently, having nothing left to say or offer.

There's no point in you trying to falling asleep, but there's also not really anything you can think of to talk about that isn't glum or about this 'mission'. 

Overall, your biggest fear revolves around what'll happen if he succeeds. You don't know what his exact mission is, what he was sent out to do, but you do know that it has to do with the deviant leader and stopping him in some way (whether is be death or capture). Are you even going to be able to sit by and let him do this?

Is there anything you can even do to stop him?

Probably not. 

Your only hope is to somehow convince him, but even then you're not sure if that's possible. Yes, he kissed you and he's let many deviants get away here and there, but will he really let go of his entire mission, his reason for even being here, to spare Markus?

God, you hope so. 

Your head droops down slowly until it rests upon his shoulder, your gaze locked on the window and the sight of buildings and other structures passing by.

When you speak, your voice is soft and hesitant, though you speak clearly. "They won't disassemble you if you accomplish your mission...?" You turn your head a bit to look up at him, a frown tugging at the corners of your lips.

"The probability of them keeping me in commission is higher if I do." His voice is just as soft, and his arm comes up around you when he feels you shiver slightly. 

You sigh heavily and turn your head back to look ahead again, wishing that it was more definitive than 'higher probability'.

"Well... I guess that's better than nothing." You close your eyes and let yourself just relax, enjoying the warmth coming from him (something you're still not quite sure how he manages) while the two of you drive towards your destination.

Nothing is certain or set in stone as of yet, though one thing is for certain: the fate of his race relies on his decision once you get there. Connor holds all the cards, but now it's just a matter of how he chooses to play them. 

Is he going to finish the game and reap the prize? Or will he gamble his life and your safety to fight for his people? 

God, please let him choose the ladder. 

\---

\- (Y/N- Companion)

\- (Hank- Friend)


	18. I Can't Let You Do This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a LONG CHAPTER and I LOVED EDITING IT. I hope you guys like it! It's a grand total of about 11,328 Words! It would've been 15,000 if I hadn't separated this and the last one.  
> Also, keep them comments commin'

It felt like your eyes had only been closed for a minute by the time Connor was tapping your shoulder and softly urging you to wake up. 

Apparently you dozed off. 

"Y/N, we'e arrived at a train stop that will take us to the place in the picture, but we've got to go now." 

Two different modes of transportation will surely make it harder to find you two, so you don't complain about being disturbed. 

You pull your head from his shoulder and sit up, scooting out of the seat as the automatic doors slide open and the automated voice urges you to get out, Connor not far behind you. 

It's just as cold at this subway stop as it was by your apartment, but you don't have to dally in the icy air for long since the train is there moments later and the doors are open for you and Connor to enter. 

He pays for your tickets with his mind (that or he just hacks into it when he walks in), so the two of you enter without any issue. 

There is barely anybody on the subway which gives you both an opportunity to claim a pair of seats close to the door, a fact you're glad for since standing is lame. 

The ride is only about 10 minutes, and when the both of you disembark onto the Ferndale station, the graffiti is literally right there. 

Connor approaches the wall while you hang back and watch him, though you aren't exactly sure what he's doing. He's completely still for a few seconds, his gaze locked on the wall the entire time as his eyes search the old, chipping paint. 

He really is an enigma; interesting and full of surprises. Every time you think you've seen all he's capable of, you're promptly proven wrong upon his presentation of some other epic skill or feature.

When he finally turns, there is a new picture on his hand, that he only glances at briefly. 

"Follow me." 

You do just that. 

\---

Oh my fucking god, how many of these damn things _are there_? 

The two of you traveled down the escalator connecting to the Ferndale station and found another graffiti, then you went across the street and to the right and found another, then a third that looked like a bunch of robots which, finally, led you down a short alley and into an old, abandoned car lot.

You notice the huge mural right away, being as it's big, white, and very obvious, but you're not sure how the hell you're going to get up there. 

It's has be no less than 13 feet long, and, last time you checked, you're not even half that tall. 

There's gotta be a stairway or ladder or something somewhere, otherwise you'll never be able to get up there.

While Connor observes the graffiti you wander around in search of anything that might prove useful, though you don't notice anything outright except for the numerous cars, trash, and big dumpster. 

"Y/N? What are you doing over there?" Connor calls from behind you suddenly.

You spin around upon hearing his voice and smile sheepishly, "I was hoping there'd be a secret staircase or ladder... but it doesn't look like there is." 

"We don't need a ladder, we can jump." 

I'm sorry _what_?

You eye him wearily but don't voice your concern or disbelief, opting to believe that he doesn't actually expect you to just _jump_. 

And, as it turns out, he didn't. 

Connor approaches that blue dumpster you noticed earlier and and grabs the handles, pulling it a bit closer to the wall. Judging from the skid marks on the ground, it's been moved multiple times in recent days; this is definitely the right move but...

Once the dumpster is pressed flush against the brick wall, he looks over at you.

"Do you think you can reach the edge from on top of this?" 

Uh, yeah, no.

You look at him like he's grown two heads, your incredulity showing in the furrow of your eyebrows and the awkward smile slanting your lips.

You wouldn't be able to make that jump even if you were a body building master- it's way too fucking high up. Even with the dumpster it's around 9 feet high, and you are most certainly not 9 feet tall. 

"I guess not... that's alright. Here, come get on my back." 

Insert record screech sound here. 

"G-Get on your back?" You repeat slowly, reaching up to tug at the ends of your hair as your face steadily begins to heat up. 

"Yes. I'll jump for us both." He doesn't sound like he's joking, so you're inclined to believe that he actually plans on scaling that wall with you on his back. 

You approach him with an uncertain countenance and hesitant strides, but then a flash from his first investigation reminds you that he has no issue with pulling himself up into high places, so it probably won't be a problem with you either. 

As you approach he turns around so you can hop right on up, which is exactly what you do. 

You place your hands on his shoulders first, then you hop upwards and throw your weight forward with your knees coming up and pressing securely into his sides. 

He feels really nice underneath your hold, the soft fabric of that turtleneck he borrowed, his solid chest and hard midsection. Above all else, despite your immense physical attraction to him, you're glad that he's here for you; he was willing to risk his mission to keep you safe and away from the clutches of the law. It really seems like he cares about you- as more than just a partner, coworker, or friend. 

He's not even phased by the sudden weight on his back, he barely even moves, and his hands hook beneath your knees as a sort of catch to help you stay in place. 

"Can you hold on, on your own while I jump?" 

"Mmhm." You hum your assurance and tighten your arms around his neck as well as your legs around his waist. 

If everything goes right, he'll hop and pull you both up without incident; if everything goes wrong, however, you'll fall off his back and probably get a concussion or broken bone on the way down. 

The brown-haired android takes a couple slow steps back, and simply stands there for a few beats; then, with the speed of a cheetah and the skill of an acrobat, he dashes forward, jumps onto the dumpster, and scales the big ass wall in a matter of moments. 

How you manage to hold on while he does this, you aren't quite sure, but as he's pulling the both of you up effortlessly you can't help but to feel impressed with yourself. 

Once the both of you are safely on solid ground, you slide off of him and return to your feet, gazing around him at the huge chasm like hole just in front of you both. Having Connor help you scale that wall was one thing, but finding a way over there is an entirely other one. 

"Hell, you're just going to have to leave me behind, Connor. There's too many jumps and drop offs and-" You cut yourself off when you see that disapproving and stubborn look in his eyes, realizing right away that he's not going to listen.

"I'm not going to just _leave_ you." He argues, grabbing the wrist of your left hand, "It's not much further, I'm sure of it. Please, just follow me for a bit longer." 

⇑ (Y/N)

You can't hide the grimace on your face, though you don't object and just concede, ducking your head down as you sigh warily. "Okay, okay. Well, how am I supposed to get over there?" 

Connor doesn't reply right away, nor does he let your arm go, as he looks to the right and left with furrowed eyebrows and a yellow spinning LED. He's trying to figure something out, maybe a route for you to take. 

"Here, I'll boost you up onto that," he points at the wall next to that metal pipe sticking out of the wall, "And then you'll walk across, I'll jump over, and then help you back down." 

That doesn't sound so bad. 

You nod your head in confirmation and stride towards the wall, not as high as the first one, after he lets you go and gauge just how tall it is. 

It's only a bit shorter than the wall you guys first came up, but if you're on his shoulders then it should be easy enough. 

Soft clicks register just to your left, and, when you glance over, you see Connor standing there looking up the length of the wall as well. He's most likely thinking the same thing as you. 

"Alright, you can reach it from my shoulders- can you pull yourself up?" 

That much you can manage. 

You nod your head and turn back towards him, a bare hint of a smile on your face. "Lets do this." 

He smiles back when that sudden burst of confidence hits you and crouches down, offering up his shoulders for you to climb up on.

Once more you're hesitant to accept this help, especially since this maneuver requires you to, quite literally, climb all over him. 

This is a weird night. 

You step up behind him and reach down and place one of your hands on his shoulder, then throw your leg over the other and rest your weight on it. 

To prevent you from toppling over in a very embarrassing manner, he reaches up and grasps your knee, thus allowing you to toss your other leg over the opposite shoulder. 

"Are you steady?" 

"Y-Yeah." 

He needs no further confirmation from you, so he stands swiftly with his arms hooked beneath your knees and his hand resting on your thighs to, once again, prevent you from falling. 

You can feel your face heating up, a nice contrast to the cool air, but you say nothing of it to avoid any awkwardness. 

The brown-haired android brings you up to the wall and stands up on his toes, looking up while you reach up to try and grasp the edge, having a bit of difficulty reaching it.

It's right there, centimeters away from the tips of your fingers, but you're just a bit short. 

"Sonofa- I've almost got it!" You grunt out through gritted teeth, huffing when your fingers just barely skim the edge once more. 

Connor jumps suddenly, and it's all you need to hook your fingers along the ledge and hang on tight. 

"You've got it?" He asks when he feels resistance from above, not really able to look up all that far since your lower half is, for lack of a better term, in the way.

You nod your head, forgetting for a moment that he can't see your face, and gasp happily, "Yeah! I just need you to-" 

He shrugs his shoulders upwards before you can finish speaking which launches you upward about an inch, allowing you to get a better handle on the concrete and pull yourself up slightly more. 

His hands slide down further to your knees and lock on them securely, then he pushes you further up and continues to until you can get your elbows up and, eventually, your entire upper body up. 

Once he's sure you're up and steady, he turns towards the hanging pipe and takes a starting step back, preparing himself for the leap. 

While he does his epic wall run and fancy swing, you carefully, and less elegantly, shuffle your way across the thin slab of concrete, making it to the other side safely and easily without having to do any of that hard crap. 

You sit down at the edge and start to slide down slowly, knowing that if you just drop down the chances of breaking your fucking ankles is super high, with your legs dangling. You have no intention of asking for help, but you don't have to because once you slip off and start to fall, a pair of hands catch you around the waist and lower you safely and carefully to your feet. 

"Holy hell-" You gasp, not having expected an assist so suddenly, and grasp his forearms, your fingers digging into the thick leather of his borrowed jacket. 

"Why didn't you wait for me?" He sounds confused when he asks this, and he looks just-as in the way he stares at you. 

You look up at him with wide eyes, feeling your face heat up once again as you try to form a coherent sentence.

He's just so _close_ to you; it's doing things to your heart. 

"I-I thought I could do it myself..." It sounds stupid even to you as you say it, no certainty or self-assurance in your voice. 

"With the form you took on, I'm certain you would've snapped your left ankle and, possibly, shattered your knee." 

Damn, you can't even fall right.

"Okay, so I won't be doing that by myself anymore." 

"I would prefer it if you didn't, so yes." 

He doesn't drop his hands from your waist, nor do you take a step back or let go of his arms. 

There's some invisible, attractive force that draws you to him, but it leads nowhere for he jerks away suddenly as his LED flares red for just a second. 

You try not to let that rejection get to you too much since he's clearly dealing with a lot of shit at the moment, so you step away and veer off to the right first, your attention immediately being caught by the sight of a drop off and huge clearing full of trash, a car, lots of construction stuff and bricks, and some more giant and old graffiti. 

Looking over the ledge of this next drop off only makes you nervous and certain that you'll fuckin' lose your kneecaps if you try to jump it, so you wait for Connor this time to help you down safely. 

And he does just that; he jumps down, and skids down the small dirt hill that lay at the bottom, though he doesn't lose his balance or topple over like you most definitely would've. 

He turns once he's on the ground and holds out his arms, gesturing for you to hop down next. 

That feeling of weightlessness and knowledge that you have no control over what happens before you hit the ground makes your stomach drop and your breath catch in your throat, but as soon as you're jumping you're safely tucked in his arms and steady only a few feet from the ground. 

He catches you around the waist again and lowers you back to the ground, only pausing once your feet are firmly planted in the dirt. 

"Thanks." You mumble, stepping away from him first this time and turning your attention up to the graffiti that he has to observe next. 

Of course, you did notice the reoccurring cube-ish symbol on each of the artworks, but you have no capabilities yourself to compute and process the hidden codes within them. That only makes him, and androids in general, more impressive to you. 

You wander over towards the broken, decaying construction stuff off to the left and look up at the stone support beam that stretches out of the wall and reaches out to the right. 

There's a 3 foot tall metal box on the ground in front of it, as well as a fallen, thick metal beam a little to the left of it that doesn't look too unstable. 

A quick glance back shows Connor still looking up at the graffiti while he searches for and decodes the symbols, so you figure it's fine for you to do this part yourself. This appears to be the path of least resistance, and you figure you'll both end up coming this way anyways; so why not?

You start by climbing up on top of the metal cube, then proceed to balance on the lopsided beam and hop up to catch the side. 

Once you've got a hold of the edge, you push off of the beam with your toes and launch yourself a bit upwards, giving you enough momentum to let go with one hand and push your elbow up onto the ledge. 

The stone is so freaking cold beneath your warm skin that it feels like it's burning, an odd combination that you don't like very much, and it's begun to snow. 

The white flakes float delicately to the ground, decorating your hair and clothes as well as gracing the ground with a crunchy, pretty white sheen. The crystalized ice melts beneath your fingertips and the warmth of your knee, dampening your clothing and seeping into your gloves. 

It's uncomfortable, but bearable. 

Because of the added stability provided by your elbow, you're able to straighten your other arm and raise your torso up enough to slide your knee onto the surface and use it to push the rest of your body onto the stone. 

Once you roll onto the stone, you jump up to your feet and smile triumphantly, though, when you finally look up, you see that Connor's already there, standing up straight, not breathing heavily or shivering, and completely unfazed. 

You opt to hide your envy and just smile kindly at him, asking slightly breathlessly, "Did you see that? I did it by myself!" 

He smiles at your enthusiasm and nods his head, finding your excitement slightly humorous. "I did. I don't think I could've done it better myself." 

Obviously that's not true, but you accept the compliment and just grin happily regardless. 

This next part won't be so easy, however, since you've gotta find a way to the top of that broken ladder thing by the graffiti. 

Connor goes first this time, running up the side on the thin stone slab and heading straight towards the opposite brick wall with the mostly stable looking platform that's about the same height as the one you're currently standing on. He kicks off the wall and launches himself towards said platform, his hands finding a good grip on the metal with little difficulty.

The way he pulls himself up is a lot smoother and done in a single motion, something you're most certain you won't be able to pull off on your own, and he's back up on his feet again in seconds. 

You choose a much slower, more careful approach via walking along that slab and watching where you're going. 

By the time you're at the corner, Connor is kneeling at the edge with his hands outstretched towards you, palms up so you can grab them.

They're just a bit out of reach, so you'll have to jump a little to grasp them, but that shouldn't be too hard; so, you bend your knees a bit, preparing yourself to spring, and jump.

His hands catch your forearms and his fingers curl around you, a strong upward force on his part hauling you up and onto the metal space right next to him. 

The exchange only lasts a few moments, but you're not done yet. 

Connor pats your upper arm gently, a, dare you say, fond look on his face as he peers down at you before he turns and looks up at the ladder thing for a moment. 

You watch him with apt interest, noticing that it seems like he scans through every possible route before computing; like he's planning each move, each bend of the knee and flick of the finger beforehand. 

Very impressive indeed. 

You step back and out of the way, flattening yourself against the bricks as he takes off again and makes a leap of faith for the metal bars. 

He, of course, catches them and is able to easily secure himself inside of the little metal cage, though he doesn't pull himself completely through and instead dangles his other hand down and reaches out towards you again. 

"Do you think you can reach me from there?" He inquires worriedly, stretching out as far as he can. 

This is a lot riskier than the last jump because all that's below is broken glass and brick, and lots of pain if you miss. But you also can't afford to waste any more time than you already have, so you'll just have to take that risk and hope it all works out. 

You take a deep, slightly worried, breath, then spring towards his outstretched hand and reach for it wildly. 

He snatches your wrist midair and holds on tight, a bruising force that'll probably purple your it later on, though the slight pain from pressure is much preferred to falling to your demise (you'd probably actually just break something not die). 

"I've got you! It's alright, I've got you." From the way he says it, so relieved, it sounds like he was just as worried about you dropping as you were. 

⇑ (Y/N)

He pulls you up slowly, clinging to the metal bars with his other hand so he doesn't lose his balance either, and eventually brings you up enough so that you can grasp the bars as well and haul yourself up.

You climb up the bars first, not having to exert yourself much at all since you've got a proper place to put your foot this time around, and finally settle on the ledge, breathing out heavily since it seems like the worst is past you. 

The freezing metal bit into your skin even beneath your gloves while you were climbing up, making your fingers ache as you try to bypass the stiffness of your joints now that you're on solid ground.

"See, that wasn't so bad. Are you okay?" He places a hand on your shoulder lightly when asking about your well-being, and you can see the concern on his face despite his previous statement of this running around, jumping, parkour stuff not being that bad. 

You shake your head no, reaching up and placing your hand over his lightly, "It was a workout, that's for sure." 

Connor smiles half-heartedly, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze at the slightly drained tone to your voice. "I'm sorry. Hopefully we're almost there... do you think you can keep going for just a bit longer?" 

"Y-Yeah, I can manage. What time is it?" 

"9:53 P.M." 

It's already been four hours, though it feel's like a lot less, but you're not exactly on a time crunch so you just nod nonchalantly. 

Connor drops his hand from your shoulder and turns towards the opening of the old, drippy room you were heading towards. 

The first thing you notice upon entering is the stale, musty smell of an old abandoned building. 

The air is damp and dank, and the room is so dark that you can barely see the opposite wall. The only illumination you've got is the soft glow of the moon shining in through the shattered windows, though even that is muted, for the heavy clouds overhead dropping snow leave little room for light to shine through. 

Even with the enclosed walls and roof overhead, it's still extraordinarily cold, a chill running up your spine at the feel of a gust of wind blowing in through some hole. It's like a wind tunnel in here. 

You hug your arms tightly around yourself to try and conserve some warmth, following Connor around the wet room as he searches for the next clue. 

Apparently he needs to line up the artwork for this one, the intricacy of this one making you hopeful that you're finished and can just get to it; and, as it turns out, your assumption is correct. 

He stares at it for a few moments, then turns his head and looks to a hole in the wall. 

There are discarded wooden palettes, 2x4's, and concrete littered everywhere, though there is a distinct path leading to a stone stairway with footprints in the settled dust. 

This is definitely the right place. 

The steps lead to an open rampart of sorts with a complex metal ladder and stair system to the left and a huge, rusted ship just ahead. 

It's ginormous, definitely big enough to harbor hundreds - if not thousands - of deviants, and has the distinctive word "Jericho" printed in white along the side with blue along the upper-half and outlining the letters. It's rusty and definitely old, surrounded by water, carrier crates, with the Ambassador Bridge in the background. 

The view is actually... breathtaking. 

You weren't expecting to be so in awe at the sight of an old-ass ship, especially since this very ship has caused you so much trouble as of late, but here you are. It's beautiful, though maybe what it stands for is what's actually impressing you. 

You look over at Connor and see that he's just as distracted by this sight as you are; his LED is spinning yellow and his gaze is faraway and distracted, but his countenance practically shines with triumph and a bit of astonishment. 

He looks over at you suddenly, his LED returning to blue, with a wonderful smile on his face.

He looks so excited, so proud of himself, that you can't help but to smile back and reach for one of his hands. 

"You did it! We're here." You're happy that you made it, but deep down you're dreading what comes next; he's going to look for Markus, and he's going to kill him or take him in to be disassembled and analyzed. 

And you can't let him do that, but you also can't bring yourself to hurt him. 

You're stuck between a rock and a hard place, but you won't know if you'll have the strength to stop him until you're there, so you can only move onward and roll with the punches until the time comes for you to act. 

Hopefully that time won't ever come.

\---

The both of you eventually find your way down the complicated ladder/stair system and, once you're on actual ground level once again, begin to search for the entrance. 

This is an easy feat, luckily enough, for there are other androids out and about that lead you to a viable access point near the bow of the ship. 

It's like a trail of perfect, robotic breadcrumbs leading you back home to the evil stepmom. Though, in this case, you and Connor are the evil-stepmom.

You glance around with furrowed eyebrows before you tilting your head upward to look up at him. "We're here... what do we do now?" You ask softly, grabbing onto his arm forearm when an android bumps into you on accident. 

Gotta keep this on the down-low, keep it hushed and quiet, so you both pause and say nothing until you're out of earshot once more. 

"We need to find Markus, the deviant leader, and bring him in. I'm not sure how much time we have, however, so we shouldn't waste any time."

You look straight ahead again and follow along while he heads towards the entrance, tugging your hat further down your ears nervously, hoping above all else that nobody notices that you're human. 

You stick close to him, practically glued to his side, and dart your eyes around nervously.

There's so many things to look at, so many people; it's overwhelming. 

Almost on its' own, your hand searches for Connor's; looking for solace in the weight and warmth of a familiar hold. 

You point your gaze down at your feet once more as you walk towards some stairs, letting your hand slip into his when your fingers brush against each other. 

Connor doesn't push your arm away or drop your hand when you grasp at his, instead he squeezes your hand gently in his own and doesn't let go, pulling you closer to him so that you won't bump into anyone else.

You hope this'll make you both look more normal, less suspicious, but of course there is that underlying ulterior motive of you just wanting to hold onto his hand (something you will never admit out loud).

The boat is filled with androids. Every nook and cranny holds no less than 5 of them, left and right, upstairs and downstairs, they are everywhere. Hundreds at the very least. Most have no LED's in the sides of their heads, and a lot of them are with companions. Additionally, there are very few in their android uniforms; most of them have casual clothes that they got god knows where. 

The sight around you is so _hopeful_. There are smiling faces, children, women, and men alike huddled together as the news station plays overhead. 

The public is supportive according to some of the anchors and people being interviewed, and, if you recall correctly, there have been numerous articles expressing the sympathy of the general public towards their cause. 

They haven't hurt anyone, practice civil disobedience, and are, all around, a peaceful people with dreams of freedom. 

A horrible, painful pang of guilt pounds in your chest when you remember what you're here to do, but maybe you'll be able to convince him to give up the mission as soon as you're alone again. Maybe you can finally get through to him and show him that this isn't right; that he doesn't need to follow CyberLife's order anymore. 

Before you're to the stairs, a thought hits you. 

"Will they know I'm human? What if someone-" Your voice is hushed when you first speak, but he cuts you off before you can finish that thought. 

Connor shakes his head and grabs your hand a bit tighter, "No. They aren't capable of scanning you like I am... Just follow my lead."

The unspoken plea to not go around admitting you're human lurks beneath the surface of his speech, so you just nod your head and remain quiet once more. 

You scoot slightly closer to him and press your side flush against his, feeling more and more nervous when you catch someone' gaze or see any models like the ones you chased in the past. 

All it takes is one wrong glance and it's over. 

Upon feeling you press more firmly into his side, he releases your hand and instead curls his arm around your waist, keeping you close and, consequently, warm as well. 

You follow Connor around a bunch of boxes and androids, your eyes traveling over to the little quarantined areas that hold the wounded. There's blue blood on the transparent sheets, and you can vaguely hear whimpers and whines from behind said sheets. They're barely holding on here, and if Markus dies they'll be left with little to nothing. 

You stress at your bottom lip gently and advert your gaze, settling for looking ahead at nothing in particular as shame settles in your heart.

The both of you approach a small stairwell with Connor still holding you securely, fulling intending on heading straight up, but a strong, sudden grip on his shoulder makes you both pause

Your heart stutters and your heart sinks down to your stomach as an overwhelming sense of dread fills you, and, when you turn your head quickly to see what the cause of this resistance is, you're shocked to see the state of the female android who swiped his arm. 

"You're lost. You're looking for something...," she pauses as she stares at him, seemingly through him and right into his soul, before continuing confidently, "You're looking for yourself..." She trails off and her black eyes finally catch onto you, a sort of smile coming to her face before she's gone once more; disappeared in the crowd of androids. 

The expression on Connor's face shows you just how much her statement troubles him, and it tugs at your heartstrings to see him so confused, but maybe these sowed doubts will lead to something better.

For once, you abstain from comforting him. 

"Connor... let's go, okay?" 

He nods his head and looks down at you for a few moments, his eyebrows knitted together and his self-assurance gone. He had been expecting you to debunk her words, to reassure him and say that he's fine as he is, but you offer no such words this time. 

You won't pretend that this is all okay; you won't lie and say that she's wrong and that he's perfectly fine as he is right now; because he's not.

He's not. 

When you still offer no encouragement or second opinion, he looks away and takes the both of you up those stairs you'd been aiming for, saying nothing. 

You both walk about for a while, trying to find Markus or even get an idea as to where he is, though so far you've come up with nothing.

A long figure in your peripherals catches your attention, and when you turn your head to get a better look, you see someone wearing a long coat walk out of a little office room and towards another staircase that leads to open air.

He's heading towards the roof of the ship with two other androids trailing behind, they're probably heading off to some super secret meeting place. 

Connor seems to have noticed them too since he mumbles to you in a hushed voice. "That's him..." 

He changes his course and follows slowly behind them with your hand still clutched in his own, his eyes never leaving the place where Markus and his companions disappeared.

The fading sounds of three pairs of footsteps lead you both halfway across the ship, towards the back, and up another set up stairs until, ultimately, they disappear into a small, boxy room.

The wind is so bad it was a miracle you were able to make it up those stairs without being blown off the side of the ship; it being so bad that it forces your eyes to close to avoid having the moisture in your eyes freeze over.

Snow rains down from the sky much less elegantly than before, the wind causing the freezing little flakes to pelt into your face and smack into your clothes. 

Connor has since let you go, figuring it's easier to be stealthy if you're not huddled into each other thus making a larger mass of person, and you find yourself missing the added warmth of having him next to you. 

The weather is positively miserable, so much so that you find yourself wishing that you couldn't feel cold either. 

You follow Connor over to the wall perpendicular to the door Markus disappeared through and pressed yourself against it, the chilled stone reaching your skin even through your jacket and sweater.

You can hear very faint, muffled talking from inside, but there's no way for you to make out what's being said. It sounds like quiet buzzing coming out in different volumes and frequencies, giving you the ability to determine whether it's a man or woman speaking. 

Violent shivers rack down your spine and make your teeth clatter together, though you try to best to keep the noise and movement at bay (not an easy thing to do).

A particularly harsh gust of wind draws a sharp intake of breath from you, the gale ramming into you like a bag of bricks and leaving your lungs burning. 

This weather is enough to kill you on its' own, but your heart nearly stops when someone walks out and passes you both on their way down the stairs.

Thankfully, neither of you are spotted by the retreating android, so you allow yourself to take a breath and relax.

This is short-lived, though, as another android, a woman this time, strides out and down the stairs.

Once again you go on unnoticed.

Markus is most definitely alone now, both members of his company having left down those stairs, so he's vulnerable to attack. 

It's too loud for him to call for help, too windy and hazy to get anywhere fast enough, and too secluded to be found,

The conditions are perfect. 

Perfectly horrible. 

You look up at Connor questioningly, preparing to ask what your next course of action will be, but his eyes are closed and his LED is yellow again. He's thinking, or maybe reporting, and completely distracted. 

You furrow your eyebrows and grab his arm carefully, a bit worried that something might actually be wrong, "C-Connor?" You call his name softly, a tremble plaguing your words because of the untamable chattering of your teeth. 

His eyes flutter open after a couple of seconds and they zero in on you, his stare blank at first before recognition flashes across his features. 

Little flecks of icy snow decorate his hat and the leather jacket, and, if he were actually breathing, there would be puffs of mist emitting from his mouth. 

It appears that he, as well as other androids, breathe, but more so for aesthetics than anything else; another thing that helps deviants blend in so well after they remove their LED's. 

Connor glances around for a moment, double checking to make sure you're alone, before he grabs your hand, the one holding his arm, and places it back at your side. A cold gesture that might've hurt your poor feelings if you were a less understanding individual. 

"Time is running out, so we've got to go now...," he trails off, looking down at you with an expression akin to worry, "You have to be careful. Don't get in my line of sight just in case, and stay behind me. Alright?"

If he actually thinks you're going to stick behind him like some sort of damsel in distress then he's got another thing coming.

You bite at your bottom lip gently, but instead of voicing your disapproval you just nod your head with faux assent.

"Okay, but- Connor, I don't think that this is a good idea...," you never thought you'd actually be able to say it out loud, much less tell him, "I mean... stopping a man who just want's to be free? That... that isn't right, Connor. He's fighting for your freedom too, but CyberLife doesn't want you to see that. You don't have to do this..."

You can tell from the look on his face alone that he's just as confused as always about your standpoint on this matter, but there's also that unspoken hint of a question there as well.

"Y/N... this is my mission, the very reason I was created, and... I'm not going to let you stop me- not when I'm so close."

You furrow your eyebrows upon hearing the unspoken threat behind his words, but still you try to push your point.

You shake your head and try to reason with him once more, a plea on your tongue and desperation in your voice, "Connor, please-"

He cuts you off before you can get any other confusing words in, trying to keep you from plaguing his mind with any more doubts. "You said you would back me up even if you disagreed with me, didn't you? Just... just do that! Okay?"

Damn, he's right you did say that.

As much as you don't want to, you concede. "Okay..." You chew at your lip worriedly and, finally, reveal your secondary weapon.

You pull your gun out from the waistband of your pants and hold it out to him in defeat, admitting sadly. "I grabbed this before we left my apartment... I trust that you know what the right thing to do is, though, Connor..."

This is the moment of truth, but you can't do it. You can't stop him, bring yourself to hurt him, so instead you give him the means to end the life of an innocent man. 

There's a pause where neither of you do anything, silent other than the raging, howling wind that whips your hair around and chills you to the bone, before he accepts the gun and looks down at it.

He looks back up at you with that troubled, uncertainty from before, opening his mouth to say something yet not a sound comes out. He stops himself and doesn't return the gun still, turning on his heel as he strides purposefully towards the entrance of the box room. 

You reach down hesitantly and retrieve your gun from its' holster, following in after him with your weapon aimed towards the ground and your finger resting above the trigger. You didn't take the safety off, mostly because you don't plan on firing, but maybe brandishing it will be enough. 

Connor strides, stance defensive and footfalls silent as he steps to the side with you trailing just behind him.

"I've been ordered to take you alive," the man had his back to you both, and when Connor speaks he turns very slowly, "but I won't hesitate to shoot you if you give me no choice."

You watch from just behind him, a distressed expression evident on your face from behind your gun while Connor stares him down.

This is, by far, worst case scenario, and if Connor doesn't see sense and change his mind before he takes action, then things could turn catastrophic. 

The man, Markus, only stares back, and he seems confused almost; honestly, you totally get it. 

How can he not understand that he's just a tool for CyberLife to utilize until they make another? Why can't you get through to him after all he's already given you? 

Why won't he just _listen_? 

"What _are_ you _doing_?" He takes a hesitant step forward, eyeing the brown-haired android warily. "You're one of us... You can't betray your own people."

You look over at Connor again, sadness softening your expression and causing the corners of your lips to droop, but still you don't lower your weapon. 

He's right, so, if he won't listen to you, then maybe he'll listen to Markus.

He doesn't.

Connor brushes it off and barks his orders once more, his grip tightening on the handle of the weapon as he shifts his stance. "You're coming with me!"

"You're nothing to them. You're just a tool they use to do their dirty work." Markus states firmly, his voice demanding that you listen and understand what he's saying as he takes another few steps towards you both. 

He doesn't look nor sound afraid, only concerned and like he truly doesn't understand how an android can so effortlessly betray their own people. 

"But you're more than that. We are _all_ more than that."

Your arm holding the gun lowers slightly for a moment before you reinforce your stance, a pained look morphing in place of the sadness from before. You drop your aim and point your gun at the ground, shame and regret filling you to the brim. You pointed a gun at a man who wants to be free, and you're allowing Connor to do the same because you're not strong enough mentally to stop him. 

"Connor... you have to listen to him." The desperation that you feel is just as apparent in your voice as it is in your countenance and body language, a plea for him to stop this madness and finally see the world as it really is. 

If you can't get through to him, then hopefully Markus can.

The darker skinned android takes another step forward, drawing your gaze back to his approaching figure.

"Our cause is righteous, and we are more than what they say." Another step forward, "All we want is to live in freedom."

You can feel Connor shift just a bit, but he still doesn't say anything still. It's as if he's waiting to be convinced; a hopeful thought.

Markus, upon not being interrupted, speaks again, "Do you ever have any doubts? You've never done something irrational, as if there's something inside you?" He doesn't stop his array of questions, firing inquiries and confusion at Connor left and right, "Something more than your program...?" 

Your gun hangs uselessly at your side now, and you reach up with your other hand to grasp his forearm, the one with the gun. "Connor..." You can't bring yourself to say anything else, though you do let out a shaky sigh and keep yourself next to him regardless of your unease. 

"Have you ever wondered who you really are? Whether you're just a machine executing a program or... a living being, capable of reason." His eyes sparking with knowing intelligence, and his gaze flickers over to your for a split second before he adds, "And what about her? You brought a human here that could disrupt your great deviant hunt?" He pauses, letting that sink in for a moment, "There's more to you than just your program. I know that, she knows that, and I think you do too. Why do you refuse who you really are?" He's so close now, staring Connor down with furrowed brows.

Still, there is only silence.

It stretches out between the three of you and wraps around you tightly, the sound of nothing leaving you on edge. Of course, there is still the howling wind whipping into the sides of the little stone room and blowing snow in through the windows and doorless entry way, but it's merely white noise, barely noticeable at this point. 

It's so fucking freezing too, you can barely feel your fingers or face. Even curling your fingers around the gun and Connor's forearm is a chore, but you force yourself to keep hold.

"It's time to decide, Connor."

Connor's expression changes a bit, he seems rather conflicted, and his confident stance falters as does his hold on the firearm. He's unsure, and his gaze flickers to you occasionally as he tries to process the fact that he, for once, has a decision to make for himself and himself alone. 

He's still for many moments, unmoving with a faraway gaze, though the gun has yet to be lowered.

His arm shakes and he takes in a sharp breath (despite not needing it), before the gun is suddenly pointed down at the ground.

⇑ (Y/N)

⇑ (Hank)

The brown-haired android is trembling, you can feel the shivers beneath your harsh grasp on his arm, and he appears just as conflicted as before even as he stares down at you. 

You take step back when he stops pointing the gun at Markus, arm falling back to your side as you stare at him with wide eyes.

Connor adverts his gaze for a moment, then looks back at you.

There's something new in his expression, something that you've never seen on that face before, but it's gone mere moments later as panicked realization darkens his features. 

"They're going to attack Jericho..."

Markus's expression changes too, and, for the first time, you see semblance of fear there.

" _What_?"

Then the sounds of planes and helicopters overhead fade in out of nowhere.

It's so loud that it shakes nearly the ground, a timely gale flowing in through the open door caused by the passing by air vehicles surrounding the old ship.

"We have to get out of here!" Connor exclaims, looking back to you again with wild worry and horrible guilt. 

Markus curses loudly, dashing towards the door without hesitation. 

You're practically sitting ducks up here on this roof, but those trapped down below are just sheep waiting for slaughter. Nobody will survive this... this massacre waiting to happen if the FBI has its' way; these people need to be warned. 

Connor snatches up your arm and yanks you along as he follows the deviant leader, his longer legs pounding into the rusted metal of the ship as he tries to keep pace with Markus.

Right as you zoom out, a helicopter swooshes down overhead and blows your hair every which way, but you barely have even a moment to look at it for you're being tugged along by Connor.

You follow along to the best of your ability, mentally thanking the physical training you're required to go through being a detective in the DPD, but still you're having problems keeping up.

They're fast, much faster than you, and they don't get tired either. They don't have muscle spasms (from what you know) and they don't require oxygen to power their joints.

Still, you try to keep close and avoid stalling Connor. 

Markus leads the two of you down a bunch of twisting and turning hallways, taking lefts and rights that make you dizzy, until you suddenly run into that woman who passed you by earlier when capturing Markus was still apart of your nightly plans.

"They're coming from all sides! Our people are trapped in the hold, they're gonna be slaughtered!" She cries, looking at Markus with an unknowing desperation that cries for guidance. 

These people really rely on him.

Connor comes to a sharp halt and you accidentally run into his back, unable to stop on a whim like that, doubling over as soon as you're no longer in motion as heavy pants shake your whole body.

The three of you zoomed down 2 whole sets of stairs and through god knows how many hallways with no breaks or pauses. 

Your lungs are practically screaming for oxygen, your sides hurt, and your legs are burning awfully, all of these factors only adding to how pathetic you look hunched over as you try to reach a state of internal equilibrium once more. It doesn't help that you were already freezing your ass off, joints stiff and creaky. 

The woman turns her head towards you upon hearing your labored breathing and seeing your heaving form, her eyes narrowing into slits upon realizing just what you are.

"Why do you have a human with you?" The way she says 'human' makes you feel like the scum of the earth, and, as far as she's concerned, you are.

Connor speaks up in your defense after the venomous question spits from her mouth, sounding frantic almost as he attempts to protect you from her scrutiny. "She's with me! She's on our side."

The way he says 'our side' would've made you smile if it weren't for everything that's going on at the moment.

How many times have you wished for that exact sentiment to resonate with him? Countless. If only the circumstances in which his awakening occurred could've been different. 

A moment of silence passes through the hall, followed by Markus speaking once more.

He seems to be configuring some sort of message that you can't hear with his fingers up to his temple and his eyes closed, and once he's done he speaks, "Where is Josh?" He sounds worried and his voice is urgent; Josh seems to be someone important to them, maybe the other man who left that room.

"I don't know, we got separated." There is pain in her voice, guilt; if something happens to this Josh, she will most definitely blame herself. 

These closed halls are just as cold as the outside, maybe even more so since the metal acts as a freezer almost, so it's inevitable that you begin to shiver. 

Connor's grip on your arm relaxes after a few moments and he looks down at you upon feeling your trembling, his eyebrows knitted together worriedly.

"They're coming from the upper deck now too. We'll be caught in the cross fire!" Markus explains, looking left and right down the halls to make sure you're still alone. 

"We have to run Markus! There's nothing we can do!"

You reach up and start to yank at your hair, stress and panic suffocating you. How are you going to get out? This whole ship is currently a death trap, and if you know Perkins, he won't stop until he's found and executed every last deviant.

This is stressful and you aren't even the one being persecuted here.

"Special Agent Perkins is the man behind this-" You say suddenly, gathering the attention of the three taller androids around you. "H-He's a ruthless man, and he's notorious for his success but...," you trail off, trying to formulate a proper, coherent thought. 

"But what?" Markus urges you to finish your thought, though you're having a hard time keeping your wits about you. 

"He- His strategies a-and the swat formations, they're weak. T-They only ever travel in groups of 2 or 3, and they move in triangle formations. Their guns have a 3 second delay after 5 shots, and their suits have peripheral blindspots. They've got big guns b-but their protocol is full of flaws..." 

You've been enroute to join his unit for 6 months now; you've studied his methods and memorized how these teams work for ages now, so, hopefully, this knowledge will finally prove useful.

"How big are these blindspots?" He presses further for more information, that stare intense and grave. 

"They can only see straight ahead, so anything 1 to 2 inches to their left or right is invisible to them. Underneath as well, they can't see below or above without physically moving their heads." Their armor is protective for the most part, but the helmets are almost impossible to see out of. 

"Do they have any weak points? Kinks or gives in the armor?" 

You don't reply right away, scrapping at your slightly hazy memory for what you know of their gear, when you remember, "Y-Yes! The neck, and joints pieces are weak or uncovered completely, but their arms, chests, and legs are all protected heavily." 

A moment of silence passes by while this information settles in, Markus' LED flashing yellow over and over before he finally says something. "We have to blow up Jericho. If the ship goes down, they'll evacuate and our people can escape!"

That's an excellent plan, foolproof, except you can't exactly follow along with it.

You'll burn that bridge when you get there, you suppose. 

"You'll never make it! The explosives are all the way down in the hold, there are soldiers everywhere!" She doesn't want him to go, she cares for him, but even you can tell that his mind is made up.

Your hands are all clammy and a bit sweaty despite how cold it is here and your heart is racing at a mile a minute; every second that goes by is another that SWAT teams could come flooding into these halls.

"She's right! They know who you are! They'll do anything to get you!" Connor is right on that one, though you suspect that Connor already knows as much. 

There are limited options here, 

"Go and help the others! I'll join you later!" The woman tries to argue, but Markus blows her off and jogs off another direction. 

Connor turns back to you again and grabs your waist gently, his fingers pressing into yours sides.

"Do you think you can keep up?" He asks seriously, his eyebrows worried together with a concerned frown downturning his lips.

Now really isn't the time, but you can't help but to notice just how nice his lips really are; even when he's frowning he's just so handsome. 

You nod your head definitively, though you aren't 100% sure if you actually can, but Connor seems to find that good enough for he takes off through the door with your arm wedged in his grip again.

Thankfully, it isn't too hard to keep up with him at the moment, though that will certainly change the longer you're running with him. 

The three of you zig zag through the halls for a small while before that guy you saw from the roof earlier joins you.

The woman, whose named you learned is North, calls his name - Josh - with relief.

He mentions how Markus saved him from a bunch of armored guards, and, from the sound of it, he exploited those weaknesses you outed to him.

You can't help but feel a swell of pride in yourself at having proved useful to him, feeling for a fleeting moment like you're making up for pointing a gun at him earlier when Connor was still mission crazy. 

You're glad for the quick break upon being joined by the previously missing android, but it doesn't last for long since you're being dragged along again moments after. 

Connor knows that if he lets you go or tries to make you run on your own, you'll lose them, so he has no other choice other than to keep an iron-like grip on you and hope that you don't trip or get hurt trying to keep up. 

Time seems irrelevant when you're running for your life, dodging hallways flooded with bullets and assisting troubled androids along the way, but one thing is for sure, you can't continue on like this for long. 

You aren't sure how long it's been, but when North turns suddenly and yells, "Markus!" you know he was successful in arming the bomb to explode ship.

This is unfortunate for you, but maybe there will be an alternate escape route for you once you reach the end. 

"Bomb's going to explode any second. We gotta get out of here!" He pauses only momentarily when everyone else stops to look at him, but continues to run after he says his piece. 

You've yet to run into any SWAT guards outright, though there have been a few close calls, but now that the end is so close you're hoping that you'll seldom run into any at all. 

Markus flanks the lot of you, running much slower so that you all remain in front of him and out of harms way, though you and Connor go along much slower as is due to the added handicap of having to deal with a human without unlimited energy.

The first obstacle along this hall is a huge box that stretches across from wall to wall, but you manage to jump that with ease being as it isn't too wide or tall, though the following hole in the ground is a much tougher issue. 

You start to slow down upon coming up to this huge hole in the ground, but Connor urges you forward and helps to launch you across it, yanking you with him midair so you won't fall through the hole and smash into the metal below. 

North decelerates when you, Connor, and Markus get too far behind and resumes her previous speed after you guys pass, but this proves to be disastrous. 

Loud automatic shots ring throughout the metal hall and flashes of light blind you momentarily, then the female android goes down with a yelp. 

"North!" Markus cries, stopping short as he whips around to look back at her. 

She's down with her elbow on the ground and her other hand holding her upper-half up, fear shining in her eyes and hopelessness screaming from her body language. She's expecting to be left behind, to be left to die, and it breaks your heart. 

Markus crouches down and swipes a discarded piece of metal from the ground, lifting it to shield his head and chest, vital areas, as he takes off down the hall towards her prone form. 

It all happens in a blur, your ears ringing horribly as your vision fades in an out from the severe lack of proper oxygen, though you do vaguely register more shots, a pair of warm hands on your cheeks, then Connor disappearing from your side to provide an assist for the struggling androids trying not to get shot to death by the SWAT team. 

The aggressive SWAT guards are taken down, and the hall is mostly clear, so everyone resumes their running for a huge hole in the wall leading to a drop off surrounded by freezing water-

"Wait!" You stop short as you cry out this plea for a stay of jumping out of this hole and look at Connor with a panicked expression.

He stops as soon as he feels resistance from you, worry showing on his face immediately after. 

You see his eyes flicker from your head, down to your toes in search of injury and looks thoroughly confused when he finds none

A quick glance around shows that everyone else has stopped too, and while their concern for Connor's wellbeing is sweet, it still makes you feel guilty.

You didn't mean to make everyone stop at such an important moment, but you can't jump into that water.

Being in the water for more than 2 minutes could give you hypothermia and that's only if you don't die in the first few seconds from a heart attack or asphyxiation from gasping in water upon hitting the glacial surface. If you do, somehow, make it out of the water, the air will kill you in a matter of minutes since your blood vessels will constrict to conserve a livable temperature for your vital organs. 

Basically, jumping into that water is a death sentence. 

You look up at Connor with sad, shining eyes and a despairing frown, shaking your head once. "I-I can't go with you, Connor! I'm a human."

Realization dawns upon his features and his hands fly up to grasp your upper arms tightly.

"Y/N, you have to. You have to make the jump!" He sounds just as desperate as you feel, but this was inevitable. 

You were never going to be able to follow him to the very end, and, deep down, you both knew this. 

It feels like it's just the two of you, like there isn't three other people staring you two down as you have this off, intimate yet tragic moment of despair.

You shake your head again, reaching up to place your hands on his shoulders. "I'll die of hypothermia before I can even take two steps out of the water. I-I... I can't go. I can't." Your teeth are already chattering and your time is running out swiftly. "I've wasted enough time already. I can... I can stop them! I'll distract them so you can get away, but I just can't jump." You sound just as devastated as you feel, and he looks it. 

You look back up at him uncertainly, about to argue your point once more before a pair of familiar lips are suddenly covering your own.

⇑ (Y/N)

This moment is something you'd never want an audience to experience, but the gravity of this situation dissolves all semblances of care for that fact.

You can't help but kiss him back despite that looming sense of losing time, your arms slotting around his waist as his hands fly up to cup your face.

It's gentle, but rough at the same time, probably because of the urgency of the whole situation, and completely different from that first kiss the two of your shared just a few morn's ago. 

While that kiss was slow and uncertain, new for the both of you, this one is filled with urgency, passion, and desperation. 

It conveys just how much he's _feeling_ at this moment, as well as just how much you _need_ him to be safe. It's everything and nothing at the same time, both a promise and a betrayal of everything you have. 

Where he must go you cannot follow, for you are the past that he needs to rid himself of to grow, to be free. 

You love him, something you never thought you'd come to terms with; but if you love him, then you have to let him go, you have to make him let _you go_. 

You pull away from the fervent, forlorn lip-lock and hug him tighter, feeling those ever present tears begin to flood your eyes. "I can't go with you, Connor... I-I can't." You shake your head and cup your hand over one of the ones pressed to your face, smoothing your thumb along his knuckles delicately. "Save your people... Y-You have to be free." 

"Y/N, please-" He grasps your hand tightly and tries to hold you in place, desperately trying to stop you from leaving, but you cut him off with a soulful, heartfelt apology. 

"I'm sorry..." You curl your fingers around his, then shove his hand back and take two large steps away, "I'll keep them busy, and you can get away." 

"No! The ship is going to blow up and they won't hesitate to shoot you-" 

"Down here!" You hear loud, muffled calls from down the hall, though the SWAT team hasn't seen you yet.

You reach into your holster and take out your gun, throwing it onto the floor before grabbing for your pocket knife. "Goodbye, Connor." 

You turn and then switch the blade open, ignoring his whisper of your name with a bleeding heart. 

The shots and shouting are growing louder, so you have to act now. 

If you don't do something, you're going to be arrested. Even with a fake hostage story or something you'll be taken in since you're guilty of multiple things like evidence tampering and insubordination, but if you're injured you may have a window of escape.

They need to believe that you were left for dead; you need to get to an ambulance.

You look down at the intimidating blade of your pocket knife for a moment, psyching yourself up for what you're about to do, an inhale deeply. You can't think about it too much or you'll chicken out and lose your window of opportunity, so, without another moment to doubt yourself, you raise it up above your head and jam it back down and into the meat of your thigh.

The pain is immediate though not as bad as it should be (probably because of the adrenalin coursing through your veins), and you can't help the choked gasp or pained groan from leaving you.

"Y/N, what are you-!" There's lots of shuffling and you hear the distinct sound of someone getting hit, then Connor speaks again, "Stop- Let me-" His voice cuts off, and, when you glance back, everyone is gone. 

Your leg gives out from beneath you, and you collapse back against the wall as the ship begins to rumble and shake violently.

It hurts like a bitch, just like you thought it would, but now you have a believable cover story.

Bright lights flash towards you nearby and you hear the distinctive sound of more yelling, heavy footfalls making the metal underneath you vibrate. 

You throw your hands up weakly, crimson glistening on your palms and staining your pants as you cry out in the most helpless and pathetic voice you can muster, "W-Wait! I'm human! I-I'm Detective Y/N L/N with the DPD, p-please don't shoot!"

A moment of silence washes through the heating halls, quickly followed by that familiar, weaselly voice of Special Agent Perkins. 

"Don't shoot, she's telling the truth." He sounds frustrated and, if you're not mistaken, a little sympathetic. 

The SWAT guards look you up and down then lower their guns.

"What the hell are you doing here, Detective?" Perkins inquires none too kindly, his gun hanging uselessly at his side.

"I-I was on a case with my CyberLife issued detective android, you remember him, b-but the deviant leader got to him and they turned on me. One of them stabbed me and left me in the hallway once they reached the exit after using me as bait to get rid of those men down the hall..." You take a deep, shaky breath and look up at Perkins with very real pain mixed with anguish that they interpret as betrayal.

They seem to believe it well enough. 

"I told you not to place so much faith in fucking androids, Detective. Was it worth the felony?" Oh this prick.

You don't dignify his taunts with a response, instead you just remain silent and just apply pressure to the heavily bleeding wound in your leg. Hopefully you didn't clip your femoral artery, that would be really bad.

"Take her to an ambulance, and once she's taken care of I want her arrested." 

\---

⇑ (Y/N- Lover)

\- (Hank- Friend)


	19. Please, Be Okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, was running hella late.

The two SWAT flanking Perkins seize an arm each and lift you up with no issue, walking you down the hallway with said man hot on their heels.

Your arms are most definitely going to bruise from how tightly they're holding onto you, but you can't even focus on that as the real pain from the knife in your leg starts to kick in.

The chances of you having nicked your femoral artery are high, so keeping the knife in will have it act as a plug to keep you from bleeding out. There is a method to your madness despite what it may seem. 

Your breath is shallow and comes out in short pants, each jostle and jar from the trek down the hall and to the stairs causing a fresh wave of pain to climb up from your thigh.

It hurts horribly, but... it isn't the most painful thing you've ever experienced, you have been shot after all, but still you'd endure pain 100 times worse if it meant that they could still get away.

After all, it's human's fault that any of you are in this mess in the first place. 

A sound emanates from below that causes your ears to ring, sudden waves of heat blowing out into your faces as fire erupts from the stairs and charrs the already colored metal.

Fire blows out in every direction, and the sounds of the two SWAT members yelling and shouting echoes in your already ringing ears.

Everything sounds hazy and thick, your ears filling with a high-pitched ringing that makes your head hurt, but you mange to remain mostly lucid and aware of the passing surroundings. 

They don't stop hauling you along despite the burning ship bordering you on all sides, though they do move faster to escape the scalding metal and flames licking up and into their faces from holes in the ground and inflamed hallways.

You run into a few more SWAT members and on your way out, Perkins never straying too far away from you and your SWAT escorts, but you can barely pay attention to any of this shit. 

If you thought it was chaotic inside the ship, then out here is a complete disaster. 

Its' like World War fucking 3 out here; what with the SWAT teams, ambulances (no doubt for the SWAT members who got their asses handed to them), FBI vehicles, androids being hauled away, and just the all around panic and disorder of it all. 

You're actually glad that you're being yanked around like a rag-doll, now, since it means you don't have to navigate the waves of mayhem yourself. 

It's late, around 4:00 in the morning already, but even in these early hours there are still hundreds of people and androids alike bustling about.

The SWAT men eventually haul you to a newly freed ambulance, the occupants just before you having been transferred to another (they're making way for you since you're technically a civilian no doubt). 

You're sat in the back of the emergency vehicle and a woman in a paramedics uniform emerges from the side with first aid gear hanging from her hands.

She looks you up and down with a deadpan, unwaveringly blank expression, having seen a lot this morning, before getting to work on your leg where you stabbed yourself.

She doesn't bother asking many questions except about how you got hurt, levels of pain, and other mandatory stuff like that, though she does keep a rather close eye on you after getting word that you're to be detained after getting the proper medical attention that you need. 

Taking the knife out hurt like a mother fucker, you could barely contain your tears as she counted down from three and ripped it out, but, unfortunately, that isn't even going to be the worst of it. 

The gauze she's wrapping your leg in is tight and bleach white, though that is soon to change, and her brow is set in concentration. This paramedic really is trying her best to help you, a fact that makes you feel guilty since you're going to have to dash on her.

"You're lucky, another few centimeters to the left and it would've completely severed your femoral artery. We're gonna have to take you back to Select Specialty Hospital for processing, cause the stuff I've got here isn't enough to patch what _did_ happen to it." She's very friendly despite that ever present distrust shining in her eyes. 

The kind paramedic reaches back and grasps a crutch that was tucked away behind a gurney sitting inside of the cab.

She opens her mouth to say something else after placing it down next to you, but another loud explosion followed by some screaming draws her attention away from you.

She jumps to her feet upon seeing a SWAT woman collapse a few paces away with blood seeping from the joints of her armor and rushes away, thus giving you a window of opportunity to escape. 

You utilize this chance to hobble away from the ambulance so you can avoid being arrested by that prick Perkins who exited Jericho with you and the people who carried you out.

The crutch tucked under your arm supports you pretty well as you limp on down the road, though each step feels like you're being stabbed all over again.

It's an unimaginable heat that worsens with each step, much more unpleasant than any paper cuts you've ever gotten, but still you soldier through it. 

You're going to grab a Taxi, then drive to Hank's place.

Hopefully they won't look for you there.

You aren't exactly sure if they plan on actually arresting you or just interrogating you, but either way you'll be in trouble, so what's a little more trouble from evading arrest?

You, somehow, manage to drag yourself back to the street again and find yourself a cab, and, after making sure sure nobody is following after you, you get in and put in the address to Hank's house. 

There is no doubt in your mind that Hank will take you in, you guys have joked about this very situation on many occasions, plus he's definitely worried about you so you owe it to him to let him know you're mostly alright. 

Then again, you aren't sure if Hank will even be there, but you haven't really got any other choice so you'll just have to hope that he is..

You let yourself lay back on the seat after climbing in and placing the crutch on the seat across from you.

Your thigh still feels like shit, but at least you don't have to put any weight on it at the moment. 

\---

It takes a while for the Taxi to finally arrive at Hank's humble abode, but when it does, you heave a loud sigh of relief.

Never have you ever felt so relieved to lay your eyes on that shabby, unused front porch of his.

You swipe your new crutch and put that out first, using it to support yourself as you step out of the taxi and manage to drag yourself to his front door.

The wooden door groans quietly when you start to vigorously knock multiple times, though a fleeting feeling of dread fills your chest when you realize that he might not even be awake; or sober. 

Either way, you can't go back to your apartment, so you'll just have to wait around until he finally gets up. 

It takes a few minutes of knocking and soft calling through the door, but eventually it opens up for you.

"I already fucking told you, I don't know where they are-" 

And there stands Hank in all of his exhausted glory, irritation and anger clear on his face.

So he was sleeping after all.

He cuts himself off and looks at you in silence for a few moments before it hits him.

You're here, in front of his house, with bloody gauze on your leg, clammy, colorless (s/c) skin, and trembling muscles.

"Shit! Y/N, what the hell happened? Last I heard you'd been fucking kidnapped or something-"

You feel him grab your arm lightly, and he pulls you inside, more of an usher since he wants to avoid hurting you.

You don't reply with anything yet, you want to get inside first to avoid being overheard by anyone who may be walking by or anything (which is unlikely since it's like 5 A.M. and the only people up are the crazies who go for morning jogs and working people).

Hank helps you to his couch and sits you down, taking your crutch and laying it against the arm of the couch so that you don't have to do any extra moving yourself.

He takes a seat next to you and grasps your hand gently, speaking to you in a soft voice that you've seldom heard from him before. "Y/N, you need to tell me what's going on."

Now that he's here in front of you, you can see how much the past half-day has affected him. He looks exhausted, though he doesn't smell of booze like you thought he would, and there's a heavy, weary sadness weighting on his eyes that makes your heart pang painfully. 

You let out a soft sigh and nod your head, realizing that keeping him in the dark any longer would be a disservice to your friendship. 

You take a deep, shaky breath and lean back in your spot on the couch, looking down at your leg which is still pounding with a hot pain.

"Connor figured out where Jericho was, and, when he realized that I'd be in trouble for helping him and illegally using our evidence when we were off the case, he told me I needed to go with him. So I did..." You trail off, sheepishly rubbing the back of your head. "We got there and found Markus. We... convinced him that his mission wasn't more important than being free, but the FBI had already found Jericho. We all ran, they decided to blow up the ship and jump out into the water, but I couldn't so..." You pause, looking down at your lap since you know Hank won't like this next part. "I caused a diversion by stabbing myself and saying it was them so they could all get away..." 

"Sonofa-" He cuts himself off and buries his face in his hands, the displeasure radiating off of him in waves. "I got a call from Perkins saying that Connor fucking-" he pauses again, taking a deep breath which reveals just how worried he's been, "That he went crazy and kidnapped you! Said some shit about how you were in danger and the androids were planning of fucking killing you." 

Wow, what a fucking asshole. Perkins really had to go and do your boy Hank like that. No wonder he was so freaked out.

"No, Connor wouldn't hurt me, Hank. He tried to _stop_ me from doing this. He tried to keep me safe..." 

Hank sighs heavily, though he doesn't say anything right away, so you glances up at him nervously and add. "He's a deviant now, and he's one step closer to being free..."

From the look on Hank's face, you can tell he isn't upset with _you_ per se, though the agitation and upset still has yet to leave his countenance.

"So, I don't have to shoot anyone, Connor, for stabbing you, and Connor finally has free will. Seems like we had a very productive evening."

Productive is one way to describe it, yes, though maybe not the word you would use...

"All we can do now, is wait." He adds after you don't reply, looking at you with resigned hopelessness.

You know he's right, but you really don't want to sit around and wait for fate to swoop in and fuck you guys up.

"I know Hank... all we can do now is watch, I guess..." You shake your head and offer him a sad smile, hating that you just admit defeat almost. "I just want him to be safe, Hank..." You turn your gaze back up towards him, unable to keep your eyes from glistening with tears. "What if we've condemned him?"

After you manage to choke that out, you turn your head away quickly again not wanting him to see the tears slip down your cheeks.

The guilt is only hitting you just now, but it's still hitting you nonetheless. 

If he dies after only just having found who he is, you'll never be able to forgive yourself. 

You should've pushed harder, you should've disarmed him and fought him more on the matter, the two of you never should've left the station, but because you weren't strong enough, brave enough, to deny him his mission, he's now out who knows where, waiting for the government to fucking kill him. 

Your self loathing is cut short when you feel a warm pair of arms wrap around you lightly, urging you closer and into a comforting, warm embrace.

You lift your head and are a bit surprised to find yourself being hugged (rather awkwardly) by your long time partner who has trouble showing his emotions.

But why the hell would you deny yourself free hugs from someone who rarely gives them out in your time of pain?

You hug him back tightly, burying your face into his shoulder and grasping at the back of his t-shirt as your body shakes with hours worth of unshed tears and anguished sobs. 

It all comes rushing back to you at once, all of the trauma of these past few hours, and, honestly, you're surprised that you were able to keep it together for this long. 

Everything that's happened, all you've gone through, is traumatizing; from almost witnessing the man you've fallen in love with murder someone who wants to be free, to stabbing yourself to avoid being arrested, all of it is really hitting you hard. 

Nothing will be the same after this night; hell, the deviants have already made history, but still there's more to be done. 

You won't even know if Connor's alright until after all of this is over, and even then, there's a high chance that you may never know. He could easily be lost in a sea of bodies or left somewhere to die on his own; if CyberLife were to get their hands on him and kill him, you wouldn't know because they have no need to inform you or Hank about it. 

Hundreds of possibilities, and very few actually involve you and Hank learning of his fate if something bad is to happen. 

It don't take too long for your tears to subside, and when they do, you pull away from the comforting hug and try to calm yourself down properly.

You take a deep, shaky breath and use the sleeve of your sweater to rub at your eyes furiously, trying to dispel the tears that rushed at you so quickly and the stuffiness of your nose.

When Hank speaks again, his voice is just as soothing and soft as before, his father voice no doubt that he used with Cole when he was feeling down just as you are now, "Connor would've killed that man if he wasn't convinced that there was more to him than his mission, Y/N. You did what you could, and if you ask me, that's more than enough."

He was doing his best to comfort you and, unsurprisingly, it's really working. Once his dad instincts kick in, nobody is safe from his assurance.

You nod your head along slowly, running a hand through your hair carefully to avoid yanking at any tangles or knots.

"There's... something else, Hank..." 

He crosses his arms over his chest and looked at you expectantly, already able to tell that this is something you think may disappoint or anger him. "Well? Go on, tell me." 

You look down at your aching leg, feeling your face begin to heat up as you work up the courage to admit to Hank what you've been hesitant to tell him about since teh Stratford Tower. "C-Connor... um, kissed me before I did the whole... stabbing myself thing, and I don't know... why?" You aren't exactly sure what inclined you to tell him this, maybe it's the fact that you don't want to keep secrets from him any more, especially not secrets like this.

What surprises you the most about his reaction is the knowing look on his face that tells you just how _unsurprised_ he is.

"Kid, you think I don't know about that morning before the Stratford Tower?" He seems to take your confused (and surprised) expression as his answer to that question, "Connor told me about it when you came to pick me up. He asked me what he should do, bla bla. Stupid kid shit."

Wait, so, he's telling you that Connor kissed _and told?_

Haha joking aside what the fuck. 

You can tell your face is undeniably flushes from how warm you suddenly feel, and you sound just as embarrassed as you feel. "He... told you..." You reiterate slowly, twisting your hands left an right nervously. "Wow, he really is oblivious.." You mumble shyly, trying to get past this undeniable moment of mortifying embarrassment.

You hear him laugh, most definitely at your expense, but... you can't get over the fact that he asked about you after that hella confusing kiss. That's hella flattering. 

He can practically see the gears turning in your head and the smoke coming from your ears, a fact that makes you feel even more transparent.

"You need to go to sleep, kid. Worrying about Connor is only going to fuck you up even more."

He's right, though even the thought of trying to rest after all that's happened is unbearable. 

\--- 

You sleep for quiet a while, being as you finally got to Hank's house at around 5:00 in the damn morning.

You missed the national curfew declaration by president Warren, because Hank finally wakes you up at 7:00 P.M. to put some food in you.

Hank was taken off duty for assaulting Perkins back at the station yesterday, and as far as he knows, your badge is currently at stake i not your freedom.

But you don't care for any of that; mainly because you got to finally help Connor deviate from his programming and realize there's more to him than his stupid fucking mission.

Hank ordered take out right before he woke you up, so it's already on its' way by the time you finished getting yourself situated and your leg cleaned up.

The white of the bandages has long since stained maroon, and the pain in your leg has increased nearly tenfold after only two hours of sleep.

You'd been hoping that a little sleep would help make you feel better, maybe alleviate your headache, but you only feel worse which was something you didn't think possible. 

Before you went to sleep, Hank helped you to his bedroom and let you rest in there, opting to crash on his couch since you needed to keep your leg propped up and from getting crushed or hit by anything.

Hank has to help you back to the living room to sit on the couch since he doesn't want you knocking anything over with your crutch, though you assume that isn't the only reason. He hides his true intentions behind a wall of apathy, but you can see that he really just wants to make sure you're okay himself instead of entrusting your balance and wellbeing in a metal/plastic pole.

Something you can't help but notice is how he's constantly asking if you need anything, and how he flat out refuses to have you do anything on your own. A little suffocating, but also very sweet. 

It isn't hard for you to figure out that Hank is concerned about you, probably because you bailed on the paramedic before she could stitch it up properly and have you sent tot he hospital.

It isn't _that_ bad though. Your knife isn't huge, it was just long... and a little wide. A standard pocket knife, he should know since you got it as a gift from him.

You can't go back to get it taken care of properly now anyways, so you just have to suck it up and deal with it occasionally bleeding (a lot) at random times. 

After the take out arrived, you both take a seat on his couch together and eat mostly in silence.

It's not a bad silence, though, more so relaxed, as Hank replays the press conference with President Warren about the curfew so you can see what's going on.

You figured that they would go overboard with their safety measures, but this is literally so much worse than you could've possibly anticipated. They're, essentially, taking away the people's right to travel freely, conducting unlawful raids and seizing peoples androids. That isn't even the worst part though.

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head when she mentioned that all androids are going to be 'neutralized' to stop the spread of deviancy.

You don't know much about genocide from this day and age, but from what you're hearing, they're going to be committing genocide against this new intelligent species all because they expressed their desire to be free. 

This situation both disgusts you and horrifies you at the same time.

You're horrified because if they (the androids) don't succeed, Connor will die. They will all die. The disgust goes without saying.

You aim your gaze over to Hank who looks just as upset about this press conference as you do, but you decide not to say anything, fearing you may burst out into tears again. 

Hank sighs quietly and pushes himself up to his feet, brushing some of his grey hair back out of his face.

"Y/N... I'm gonna go get you, uh, some more bandages from the store... so, stay here, don't open the door to anyone who isn't me. Sumo will keep you company. He's a shit guard dog but he's good in every other way..."

Upon the mention of the good fluffy Saint Bernard dog, you look down at Sumo. He's already resting at your feet, his head lying gently on your feet while his body blocks the pathway between the coffee table and couch.

You smile and nod your head, having no doubt in your mind that he'll make for wonderful company while Hank is away.

This sure wounds like an excellent plan. Sumo all to yourself? Hell yeah.

Hank flashes you a quick half-hearted smile before grabbing his shoes and heading off, his keys dangling from his fingers which causes a fading jingle sound with each step he takes.

You reach down and rub behind Sumo's floppy ears wildly, a smile working its' way to your face again.

He's such a good boy, though these nice thoughts about the sweetie snuggling your feet are promptly interrupted when the news anchor on TV starts spouting out more bullshit about how dangerous androids are and how it's best to tell the authorities so they can take care of it all.

Take care meaning murder, of course.

It pisses you off, but at the same time it also makes you wonder: who are the real emotionless robots here? Because from where you're standing, it seems like the only heartless monsters are you guys. 

* * *

**Connor POV**

He feels like a failure.

He couldn't complete his mission; he couldn't fix the problems he caused; he couldn't _save_ you. 

He should've made you come with them, should've grabbed you and jumped despite your protests. The possibility of finding you a warm place and brand new clothes was high, but still he let you go.

This horrible feeling in his chest is something he's never experienced before; this awful, suffocating regret provides an internal hatred he's never endured before.

Yes, there has been instances in which he's felt bad or regretful about something, but not like this, never like this.

He regrets not running after you, not grabbing you before you jammed that knife into your thigh.

You could be dead, and it's all his fault.

Agent Perkins finding Jericho was all his fault.

You practically begged him not to pursue Markus, not to try and take him down, but his mission clouded his judgement and fueled his actions, and because of this, you are gone. 

He'd let his better judgement go when he kissed you that morning of the Stratford Tower, and he'd done it many other times too like when he saved Hank. let those Traci's go, and refused to shoot Kamski's android, Chloe; so, why didn't he do it then? Why did he have to keep pushing like that? 

That pained gasp that left you when you stabbed yourself, awfully close to the femoral artery if he saw it right, plays back in his head over and over again, as does the intensity behind the way you kissed him back when his emotions overtook him and prompted his capturing of your lips in your second ever kiss. 

The moment would've been perfect if it weren't for the looming, inevitable sense of dread and doom from the approaching explosion or the audience that so kindly waited for him to have that moment with you. 

He remembers it so vividly, both the good and the bad of it, but even the good parts are plagued with the shame of what he's done. 

After he resurfaced and his head broke the surface of the water, he saw flames erupting from the holes in the ship and heard the aftermath of the explosion. 

The ship groaned and screeched beneath the stress of the pressure and sudden heat, it must've been like an oven in there, but he didn't see you again after that. 

Your mobility was compromised because of the self-inflicted knife wound and there were trigger happy SWAT members advancing down the hall, not to mention he's fairly certain that you at the very least nicked an important artery. The chances that you survived all of that are slim, much slimmer than he likes to think about, and this positively ruins him. 

He doesn't known what he'd do with himself if you'd have died, hell even thinking about it is enough to fill him with pain, but what's even worse is that he'll never know what happened if he doesn't get a hold of Hank or your arrest records.

But, maybe, this is the punishment he gets for what he's done. Maybe taking you away is perfect justice to counteract his horrible deeds; because if it is, it's certainly effective. 

Connor is brought out of this newfound self-reproach upon Markus coming into view; it seems like he's planning on talking business. 

He decides to speak first, wanting to convey just how regretful he is of his actions before Markus can pass his judgement, 

"It's my fault... the humans managed to find Jericho..." He pauses, his gaze still trained on the ground. "I was stupid... I should've guessed that I was being used." Connor relaxes his harsh grip on his arms and takes a few steps forward, his voice portraying just how guilt-ridden he is. "I'm sorry, Markus... I can understand if you decide not to trust me..." 

Yes, of course he hopes that Markus will trust him, otherwise your sacrifice will be for naught, but that doesn't mean he deserves it. 

Markus doesn't even hesitate with his response, his expression set with determination. "You're one of us, now. Your place is with your people. With... that human you've fallen in love with." 

It isn't that hard to realize just what's going on between the two of you, especially after he, quite literally, smothered you with a breath-takingly passionate, desperate kiss, so he isn't surprised that Markus knows nor that he brings it up. 

"There are thousands of androids at the CyberLife assembly plant." Connor waits until he has Markus' complete attention before continuing, his dramatic pause making Markus freeze in place. 

Knowing he succeeded in catching the deviant leaders curiosity, he proceeds to elaborate on his fragmented idea. "If we could wake them up, they might join us and shift the balance of power..." He needs to make up for all he's done somehow; he needs to help liberate his people after hurting them for so long.

Markus, however, seems to find his idea to be awful.

"You want to infiltrate the CyberLife tower?" He asks incredulously, his eyebrows knitting together as he shakes his head. "Connor, that's suicide..."

The fact that he cares for his well being even after he held a gun to his head and tried to take him in to his oppressors speaks lengths to his character, and it only makes Connor respect him more. 

He understand where he's coming from, but... they trust him, and he knows that.

Amanda can't stop him now that he's a deviant, so CyberLife will never know of his betrayal as long as he plays his cards right.

"They trust me, they'll let me in. If anyone has a chance of infiltrating CyberLife, it's me." Connor nods his head along to his own words, his arms hanging idly at his sides.

"If you go there, they will _kill_ you."

Having someone other than you or Hank caring about his well being feels _good_ , though he is still slightly confused as to why he would care about him at all in the first place. 

"There's a high probability... but, statistically speaking, there's always a chance for unlikely events to take place..."

He's already made up his mind so there's not anything Markus can say to stop him, but when the deviant leader steps closer and grabs his arm gently, telling him that he has to be careful, he's glad. It's much nicer to have his blessing than having to act on his own. 

It's nice and all to have somebody in his corner that's worried about him, but he knows he can do this.

It'll be easy (or it should be at least).

They'll let him in, he will find a way to the warehouse floors and free the androids there, and then their numbers will increase.

He finally has a chance to make things right once more, but even with this fleeting moment of self-redemption, the thought of you creeps back into his mind.

You wanted him to be free, you have this entire time, and now he has the chance to bring that wish to fruition. 

From your very first investigation together you cared for him, you cared for the deviants and treated androids like more than just machines designed to complete tasks, you were willing to give up your life for them there in the end at Jericho... you're the epitome of a good, accepting person, and he finds that he needs you. 

He needs you to be okay. 

\---

\- (Y/N- Lover)

\- (Hank- Friend)


	20. How Strange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, I have finals this week and next week for my college classes so I've got a lot of shit to do!

You aren't quite sure how long Hank has been gone, but, honestly, you can't be bothered to think about that with Sumo snuggling you on the couch.

A little while after Hank left Sumo decided he wanted to get up from the floor and hop on the couch to be with you.

He went straight for the snuggles. 

He's laying his big fluffy head on your good thigh, looking up at you with his large good boy eyes.

You rub behind his floppy ears gently and coo at him with a baby voice that would sound really odd to an outsider, your eyes still horribly droopy from sleeping in for so long. 

Being left with nothing but your thoughts isn't the greatest thing for you right now, especially since they're all _negative_ thoughts, but still you manage to mostly distract yourself with petting this good puppy. 

You're pulled out of your sleepy, petting daze at the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut, drawing your attention to the front door.

The sight that beholds you is Hank with a bag hanging off his arm, snow dotting in his hair and on his clothes, and a slight frown tugging at his lips.

Your hand sways back and fourth as you wave at him, a tired smile gracing your lips despite the fact that there's actually so little to smile about.

You're overwhelmingly that glad he's finally back with the stuff for your leg, mainly because it's already soaked with red. What makes that even worse is the fact that it's drying, so it leaves your leg feeling sticky and uncomfortable and is making the bandages rigid and crinkly. 

It hurts really badly; it's an achy, hot pain that feels like you've been punched in the same spot over and over again 100 times. It's tender, and even so much as shifting slightly to the left or right elevates the pain even more. 

Hank strides over in all his tall, older glory with the crinkling bag swinging from his arm to and fro.

He's like a knight in shinning armor (more like in matte grey coat) with the loud paper bag sword hanging at his hip and that little, new half-smile that makes you feel a bit better.

The greying Lieutenant heads over and places the stuff down on the little table in front of you, glancing at Sumo who is snuggling up against your leg with furrowed eyebrows.

"Kid, your bandage has to be changed out. Let go of my dog and let me-"

You shake your head and bury your hands into Sumo's fluffy fur, whining comically despite the pounding pains in your poor leg, "No! I wanna snuggle him just a little longer, Hank!" You exclaim rather childishly, squeezing your eyes shut while you smother the Saint Bernard with affection and love. 

Hank rolls his eyes at your overly dramatic display and leans down to physically move Sumo himself.

He grabs his big, fuzzy torso and pulls him back until he's on the other side of the couch, then he drops him with a grunt.

Sumo lifts his head and stares at Hank for a few moments, you swear you can see a glimmer of dissatisfaction in those cute browns of his, before he lays his head back down and on his big paws.

He really is such a cutie pie, so sweet and comforting, and he's done a lot for you mentally just by sitting there... There's also the added support of some of those good painkillers Hank gave you earlier. You're not exactly 100% in the right mind because of the side effects of that medication, leftover from when he got injured a few months back, though this added loopyness certainly does provide an extra layer of reality blockage. 

Of course, even this slight divergence from your complete sanity isn't enough to make you stop thinking about Connor. 

He could be anywhere in Detroit right now, possibly hurt, maybe even dead, with no idea as to what happened to you after the explosion in Jericho. 

If he is okay - no, he's definitely okay - he's no doubt worried about you. 

After he kissed you so passionately before you stabbed yourself and they, the Jericho androids, forced him to jump, you realized just how hard this would be. 

Parting is such sweet sorrow, a term you've only just begun to understand. 

Before that moment when you grabbed you and expressed just how hard everything was in the form of a forlorn and heated kiss, you'd been questioning his feelings and thoughts. You had assumed he kissed you that first time because he wanted to experiment, to see what 'human things' like love are like, but that last, desperate expression of longing and care proved you otherwise. 

There really is more to his feelings for you than just using you as a means to an end for his mission, to his desire to learn more about humanity. He really does... _care about you_. 

Hank suddenly grabbing the bag again and offering up his arm for you to grasp catches your attention and steals you from your thoughts, though you don't act and just blink up at him stupidly for a moment.

"C'mon, kid." He urges softly, nodding down towards his arm once. 

You finally act upon his careful commands and place your hand on his arm rather weakly, swaying a bit as he helps you to your feet.

A soft, uncomfortable groan passes quietly through your pursed lips and clenched teeth because of the sudden pounding in your leg upon putting weight on it, but you decide against complaining about it. 

He definitely knows you're in pain as is, no need to make him feel worse. 

* * *

After Hank helped you out he decided to lounge around with you and just enjoy the lack of chaos for once.

The news played for the majority of the day and you cycled out multiple different channels to keep yourself updated with what's going on. 

Unfortunately, the bleeding doesn't ever really stop for long, but when the bandages dry and stick to your leg it provides a good plug for all of that blood; of course, taking those bandages off hurts worse than anything else since you kinda have to rip it out of your leg. 

Eventually, Hank sends you to bed for the night, taking on that fatherly, no room for argument tone that shuts down any and all protests you may have resting on your tongue.

Something about 'needing as much rest as you can get since you got fucking owned.'

What the hell is that all about? More rest? When Connor could be doing something dangerous? Fuck that. But, when you voice your distaste for going to sleep at 9 P.M. on this nice November night of the 10th, he tells you to suck it up and get your ass in bed. 

Thus ending that argument.

When you get up that next morning the sun is shining brightly through the window, though that isn't what wakes you up in the first place.

What actually disturbs your heavy slumber is the pounding in your thigh, like someone just got finished punching you endlessly in that one spot, and the nausea that leaves you shaky and horribly sweaty.

The pain medication must've finally worn off and you're starting to feel the full effects again, and you suspect that blood loss is finally becoming a problem.

Your back pops a few times upon sitting up, but you barely pay any mind to that as you glance down at your leg and see the unsurprisingly sight of maroon clashing with white.

The bandages are bled through again, the dark red branching out and staining the area around the stab wound.

You move your legs over the side of the bed slowly but surely, each shift making it hurt even worse, and, eventually, manage to rest your feet on the carpeted ground. 

Hank slept on the couch again last night, though when he helped you here he left your crutch next to the bed, so you grasp the handle and use it to get to your feet. 

It's hard to walk with one good leg and an uncomfortable crutch barely adjusted to your height, but you do still manage to hobble to the door of his bedroom and push it open, the smell of cooking breakfast attacking your senses straight away.

The first thing you see is Hank standing in the kitchen over the stove as steam rises up from a sizzling pan. 

Soft clicks emanate from the floor each time you take a step with your crutch, the sound disappearing once you plop yourself down on the couch next to the blanket he covered himself with while he slept last night.

There has been no obvious smell of alcohol since you came her last night, a fact you're glad for, and you're. happy that he's been abstaining from his addiction to help take care of you for the time being.

Sumo's eating from his bowl while Hank makes what you assumes is eggs, his big ole tail wagging back and fourth upon you entering the room.

The fluffy doggo looks at you expectantly, waiting for head pats as he pauses his breakfast, though you don't move to get up despite how much it pains your heart. 

You turn your gaze back to the table in front of you to avoid his puppy stare, catching sight of the time while your attention shifts.

It's already 1:00 P.M. in the afternoon, so you not only slept way too long yesterday, but a fourth of today too. You never sleep this much, another fact that makes you worried about how much blood you've lost thus far.

Hank rotates around to face you with the pan in his right hand and two stacked plates in the other, not seeming surprised to see you at all.

Your crutches more than likely are what alerted him to the fact that you finally woke up since they're so damn loud.

"I cooked up some eggs, kid. Figured you'd be waking up soon..." He slides the eggs out of the pan and onto a plate each with his spatula, then he strides on over to you and hands you a plate.

You accept it gratefully and dig right in, not having realized just how hungry you are until you began eating, and mumble your appreciation.

Hank steals a seat next to you, throwing his blanket off to the side so he can be more comfortable. 

You munch on your eggs silently, a pouty expression stuck on your face despite being served so kindly by the wonderful Lieutenant. The reason for this is because of how you're feeling currently.

You feel rested yet exhausted at the same time. Something that you can't really explain but hate nonetheless.

Hank seems to notice your internal struggle without much observation, but he decides against asking you about it for the time being; mostly because he wants to enjoy his breakfast before getting into any depressing topics with you. 

You still have the whole day ahead of you anyways, so there's no reason to sulk around and talk about dispiriting things right this instant.

Is this a form of denial? Maybe. Do you care? A little. Will that stop you from ignoring it? No. 

Instead you stretch your arms up above your head, trying to ignore the horrible tightness in your sore leg, and let out a soft yawn.

Connor still hasn't shown up, and it's been almost two days now. You haven't heard anything from or about him since you got hauled out of Jericho, and not knowing what became of him is really starting to wear away at your sanity.

Your stress is through the roof, and no matter how many times you push these thoughts away in an attempt to ignore all the horrible scenarios running through your mind, it always comes back even worse than before.

He got away and out of the ship, but that doesn't mean there wasn't some sort of special tracking system on him, or that he wasn't caught after the curfew was put in place.

They're finding androids and shooting them in the streets, sending them to camps and to CyberLife to be studied. 

There are so many possibilities and scenarios constantly running through your head, and very few of them are positive.

A couple times you do allow yourself to think about the way Connor had kissed you before you ran off; about the way his hands grabbed the sides of your face to pull your face closer and how soft his lips felt pressed up against your own despite the harshness and passion poured into it.

You aren't sure if the way the kiss felt had anything to do with the fact that he had just become deviant, but it was so magical either way.

The first time he kissed you, you assumed it was just an experience for him; but this second time... there was so much emotion behind it. You were almost convinced that you should jump into the freezing cold water beneath the ship just to stay with him. 

You know you love him, at this point it's undeniable.

Though, you don't know exactly what it was that made you fall in love with him, a mixture of things more than likely, but the feeling is unmistakable.

When he hugs you, or even grabs your hand, your heart would flutter. You want to have something with him. You want to be special to him, to care for him and love him like he deserves, but if he's dead... that will never happen.

Sure, there are other Connor models, but there is no other Connor like the original. 

You attempt to ward these mood dampening thoughts away with a shake of your head and try to focus your attention back to Hank who has turned on some nice jazz music.

It's relaxing, and successfully draws you away from your negativity, though it's not enough to make you fall asleep again.

Actually, it probably would be enough to effect your wakefullness if you weren't trying so hard to keep your eyes open and your brain active, but you're afraid to sleep; afraid to let the inky blackness of unconsciousness consume you with fear of what you may miss, of what you may see. 

Time passes really slowly, or at least it feels like it does, from then until 9:46 P.M. which is the current time.

You lazed around the whole day with Hank, reading some of his books, changing out your bandages a few more times, watching TV, boring things like that, but your boring evening screeches to a harsh halt when there's a sudden knock at Hank's door.

The both of you were just watching TV idly, having just switched out your soaked through bandages in favor of new clean ones, when loud, determined knocks resound throughout the house. 

Hank looks at you quickly, so quickly you're surprised he didn't break his damn neck via whiplash, with wide, surprised eyes.

Judging form the look you share, both of you immediately assume that it's some police officers coming to question him about your whereabouts once more, so he swipes your crutch and stashes it under the blanket he'd been using, seizing your arm to help bring you to his bedroom to hide.

The door clicks open imperceptibly silently, way too quite for the person outside the door to notice and you keep your shuffling to a minimum to hide any dragging sounds that may come from the effort, though the louder knocks help to mask any noises coming from you even more.

"I'm comin', I'm comin'!" He calls irritatedly, stopping in front of his door with you on his arm. 

Hank stares at the door for a moment, then steps up to it slowly while you release him and shut his bedroom door mostly, leaving a small crack so you can peek through and see what's going on.

Hank glances back towards you once, taking a deep breath before reaching for the metal door handle and turning it carefully. 

The door swings open slowly, and Hank masks his panicked expression with one of annoyance. A familiar look for him. 

A moment of stunned silence washes through the older house, neither Hank nor the person at the door saying anything to start with.

The cause of this shock is the person standing there at the door, the person who has been the very subject of your concern for these past few days.

There stands Connor himself, wearing his usual android uniform again, looking as handsome as you remember him.

"C-Connor!" Hank's shocked, yet also relieved, voice breaks the tense pause, echoing through the mostly empty house and catching Sumo's attention.

You don't hesitate in slamming the door open, yelling out his name as Hank ushers him inside.

How is he here? Why is he here? 

What's more surprising than him being here is the complete lack of proper emotion he displays upon seeing you.

It's like little gears are turning in his head, like he's lagging or something, before his expression changes all at once. His sudden switch from emotionless to extremely expression makes it seem as if he was searching for an appropriate response to your sudden appearance.

His countenance morphs as he strides over to you in a few short steps, wrapping his arms around you rather stiffly.

The oddity of his behavior flies directly over your head, for all you can think about is how nice it is to be in his arms after being left in the dark after what happened at Jericho.

You bury your face into the side of his neck to hide your teary eyes, and wrap your arms around his waist tightly, leaning your weight heavily into him.

Connor pulls away all too soon to address Hank, informing him about what he did after jumping into the water and how he came to be here in the first place.

Something is slightly off about him, though; he wasn't as happy to see you as you had expected him to be, and his face barely changes for the duration of this short conversation. He seems to be less expressive and more awkward, though maybe it's just all the stress of the past two days finally getting to him. Poor guy. 

Before you or Hank can ask about anything else, the brown-haired android changes the subject to a much more pressing matter.

"Lieutenant, Detective," Detective? "I need your help. I need to go to the CyberLife tower..." he trails off, glancing over at you with downturned lips and frustrated eyes. "There are androids there that I need to free, and I predicted that the best cover story for me is that the two of you are escorting me to be disassembled." He gets straight to the point, acting very similar to your first investigation together, though if this is his new mission then it makes sense.

You're all too happy to help him out.

Your head is nodding up and down before your brain even has a moment to actually think through his proposal.

"Of course we'll help you! We will." You look over at Hank with your big ole begging eyes, you studied along side Sumo for this one, and ask, "Right, Hank?"

His expression betrays his skepticism and hesitance to agree, his gaze flickering down to the reddening bandages covering your thigh.

Which prompts another thought. 

Why hasn't he inquired about your wellbeing as of yet? Or asked what happened in Jericho?

Hank's voice distracts you from your questions. "Y/N, you can't be walking around when your leg it like that, you know."

What a stupid excuse to keep you out of harms way. I mean come _on_ , it's just a little stab wound to the femoral artery that won't stop bleeding. Nothing too serious...

You shake your head quickly to display your disagreement and displeasure, denying his reason to leave you out adamantly. "No! I left him once already, Hank. I refuse to do it again."

The Lieutenant stares at you blankly for a few moments, an unamused expression on his face. It appears that he doesn't much like the idea of bringing you along _at all_ , but that doesn't phase you in the slightest.

You have to.

It won't make sense for Hank to go without you anyways.

You turned your gaze back to Connor, an excited smile on your face. He doesn't return it.

"Y/N is right. Both of you would be more realistic. Don't worry Hank. She'll be okay." 

Your excitement falters when he backs you up, not having expected that he'd actually want you to come along. What happened to his constant efforts of keeping you out of harms way? 

You don't let this show, however, and just smile brightly at his insistence of bringing you with, he's backing you up and Hank seems to be caving in. You never get your way when it comes to things like this!

Hank reluctantly nods his head along after a few moments of silence, looking over at you again.

You'd have to bring your crutch of course, but nobody will think twice about that hopefully. CyberLife hasn't been issued your warrant since it's not their damn business, so you won't have to worry about them turning you in. 

Hank, while sighing in defeat, reaches for his car keys and retrieves them from a hook on his wall, his annoyed gaze downcast as he grumbles none too happily, "Alright... fine. Let's go already then." He mumbles a distinctive 'fucking brats' under his breath to top that off.

Your smile directs over to Connor once again, but he only offers you a half assed one in return. 

Something is definitely wrong with him, but, against your better judgement, you once again push that all away and continue to convince yourself that he's perfectly fine, because your sanity needs him to be.

\---

\- (Y/N- Lover)

\- (Hank- Friend)


	21. Who Are You Really?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Needed extra time to finish this since I've been so busy with college finals, I'm sorry. Also, I had to separate this chapter and the next once again cause it was getting way too long.

To say that you were expecting Connor to have a bit more of a reaction to seeing you would be an understatement. 

Truthfully, you were anticipating a much more romantic and passionate reunion; you were expecting him to sweep you up into his arms (and to feel lots of pain from the sudden movement) and kiss the hell out of you; for him to hold you tight and tell you that he missed you and was horribly worried just as you have been. 

But he didn't do that. 

He barely even looked at you, and, when he did go in for a hug, he appeared uncomfortable and just weird all around. 

Is he regretting that kiss? Was it really just a spur of the moment expression of a deviated friend that meant nothing? 

You prefer not to think about it.

Hank waits over by the door for the both of you with crossed arms and an annoyed expression on his face. Clearly he's irritated that you and Connor managed to convince him to bring you along despite your wound, though he hasn't voiced his protests anymore. 

You struggle up from your spot on the couch, you took a seat while Connor explained himself since it hurts to stand, and uncover your crutch by pushing the blanket aside that Hank used to hide it.

After equipping the uncomfortable walking assistance, you hobble back to Hank's bedroom with an objective driving your hasty movements. 

There was an unmistakable shiny, heavy weapon 'hidden' in Hank's bedside table which you're currently aiming to swipe, and, upon finding it, you tuck it into the waistband of your pants while Hank and Connor discussed some things in the other room.

Its' smooth metal is cold against the skin previously warmed by your sweater, but your layers also conceal the shape of the gun so you don't mind the slightly discomforting chill.

You're sure Hank won't mind you bringing one of his guns (just in case) so you go ahead and put your crutch under your arm again, inwardly surprised when Connor materializes seemingly out of nowhere.

It's rather sad that you're surprised that he came to your assistance, but still it actually makes your heart flutter and your face heat up.

The brown-haired android walks over and places one of his hands on the small of your back, reaching for one of your arms and placing it around his neck.

"Allow me to help, Y/N." He's using your name again, so maybe he was just putting on a front to keep Hank in the dark...

He doesn't appear to notice the gun you pocketed thankfully, for now you'd prefer to keep the gun on the down-low, but if he does feel it, he certainly doesn't show it.

The telling sound of the front door swinging open reaches your attention, and Hanks' voice follows moments after. "I'm gonna go warm up the car. Don't take too long!" 

Heavy footsteps come next in this sequence of events, then the door shuts, thus leaving the both of you inside of the house alone.

You glance up at Connor nervously, clutching the crutch a bit tighter as you mumble out, "Thanks' for helping me out, Connor... are you, um, are you okay?" Your voice is soft and the hesitance rings clear in your tone, but you choose to move past your skittishness. 

Silence follows your question, for he doesn't reply right away; when he does, however, he sounds uncertain, "Yes, of course. Why do you ask?" 

"Ah, n-no reason. I was just... so _worried_ about you after what happened before you jumped- and, I mean, we need to talk about what happened..." 

"Yes... yes, we do. And we will, but we need to complete our objective first." He sounds so matter-of-fact and uncaring; like he didn't kiss the daylights out of you in that desperate, parting moment. 

It stings quite a bit, but you try not to let it hurt your feelings since you know just how much stress he's under at the moment. 

"Well, okay. Let's go, we haven't got time to lose." You smile despite the hurt you're feeling and instead lean into him more heavily, using him as your crutch while he takes your actual walking assistance. 

Connor helps you to the car (you were sure to Lock Hank's door behind you) with your crutch dragging against the ground uselessly while he takes you along.

He practically carries you to the car, and he physically lifts you up and places you in the back so you won't have to put any more stress on your thigh.

Your crutch is stashed underneath your feet too avoid having to rest across your lap and, consequently, on your thigh, and as he does this he reminds urgently. "We have very little time, so we should try to get there as soon as possible."

Neither of you have any objections.

\---

You aren't sure how long you three are driving in Hank's car driving to CyberLife. It felt like ages since you first left his house, but realistically you know it has only been about 20 minutes.

Connor is still acting distant and strange, like a good actor trying to remember his barely reviewed lines each time you or Hank speak to him, and it's beginning to bother you more and more as time drags on.

You keep your thoughts to yourself despite that nagging desire to get to the bottom of this issue, mainly because if something is amiss, you have back up in the form of a firearm in the waistband of your pants.

Upon pulling up to that super cool high-tech gate, the guards lower the barriers and allow you to pass, probably because they still trust him.

The clock built into the drivers screen of Hank's car reads 10:24.

The ride to the CyberLife tower ended up being a lot longer than you thought it would be, but it was just as arduous and boring as you expected. 

"Huh, they sure spared no expense on their front door. Wonder what the entryway'll be like." Hank makes this snarky comment about the fancy gateway with a sneer in his voice and on his face. 

Personally, you think it's pretty cool despite it belonging to these Cyberpsycho's, but you decide to keep your mouth shut once again.

After passing the security at the gate, the drive to the tower actual tower takes only a few minutes.

You will admit, it's annoying to you how over the top everything is; there's a long bridge, a big train that passes by the car, and that huge CyberLife tower smack dab in the middle of this huge circular clearing. Everything, even the artificial trees, are super over the top and sleek looking, and, as much as you hate to say it, it's lovely.

You observe as the expansive building grows closer and closer, like a large beacon breaking through the night sky demanding your awe and attention.

It's marvelous, unfortunately.

You want to hate everything about CyberLife, but you know that's impossible because here you are enjoying their investigative android and the sight of their extravagant building.

Why does something so physically beautiful have to come from something so morally ugly? 

The car comes to a halt once you reach the entrance of the building, the first thing coming to your attention being the two guards who stand outside the building.

They make no move to follow after you or question why you're all here, something that mildly confuses you but still you brush off.

Connor opens the car door and steps out with a mask of calm, nonchalance on his face, not sparing even a glance at the CyberLife guards standing around idly with their guns, though he doesn't head straight for the entrance like you thought he would; instead, he waits for you and Hank to join him.

Hank gets out as well, but since Connor didn't move to help you, you take that as your cue to open up the door and get out crutch first by yourself.

Call it stupid, but you had actually been half expecting him to help you without being asked, but, maybe, his brain is just rattled from the events of the last 48 hours. Surely he's just overloaded and not thinking about it.

When Connor fails to provide you with assistance, Hank steps over and takes your arm in hand, helping you up to your feet and out of his car as carefully as he can.

You grunt out in pain, whimpering softly as you step awkwardly and put pressure on your leg. 

Connor watches without an ounce of expression on his face, and it both confuses and frustrates you.

Hank throws a glare at Connor so withering and angry that a chill nearly runs down your spine, but he wastes no more time and turns, walking you both on in, only letting you. go once he's sure that you're good to walk on your own.

He has no reaction to Hank's anger. 

The guards don't move to stop you or even ask any questions about why your'e here as you all head inside, though one holds out their hand and informs Hank that they need to park his car somewhere else.

How peculiar. 

Hank reluctantly concedes and hands his keys over, and the CyberLife guards don't hold you back anymore.

Thankfully you all get to finally go in and escape the horrible cold, though the icy flakes garlands your hair like a crown of white don't just disappear, for they instead leave you just as cold as the wetness reaches your scalp and seeps into your sweater. 

Upon entering the huge tower, you're all 'greeted' by a few guards (with big ole guns) and a lot less understanding when compared to the guards outside.

"The hell are you doing here?" A man in the required CyberLife armor questions gruffly, stepping in front of Connor who is leading the way.

Connor looks at him blankly, "We're expected." Another one stepped closer, but you couldn't see their expression because of the helmet blocking their face.

"I've been sent by Amanda, you should have been informed. Will you let us pass?"

You were already silent, but at the mention of someone named Amanda, your confusion grew.

"That depends on if you have the confirmation code."

Confirmation code? That can't be good. Since he's gone deviant CyberLife shouldn't have anymore contact with him, so there's no why he could have-

"Confirmation code C6BJP, access level, Red." 

The guards back off immediately upon his recitation of this 'code.'

Why the hell does he have one of those? 

You try to rationalize this by telling yourself that this may have been something he's been required to use since day one, thus, you manage to brush your suspicions off once again in favor of babying your useless hope and pathetic desire for everything to be alright. 

Connor walks on ahead with Hank hot on his heels, but you trail behind quite a bit; it's not because you're slow on your crutch, though, instead, it's because the cogs are turning in your head (and it's also hard to match their normal pace).

He's been acting weird since he first walked in Hank's front door.

His reaction to seeing you was, for lack of a better word, disappointing, and, admittedly, suspicions. You had been expecting something, _anything_ , more than what he expressed, but even his coerced reactions seems staged and half-assed. 

There's also the oddity in his mention of the name 'Amanda,' a name you've had yet to hear.

You met Markus, the leader of the deviants; you met North, his right hand girl; and Josh, his left hand man.

He escaped with them, and all non-CyberLife sent androids were being gathered and killed.

They let Connor pass instead of questioning you or Hank, regarding him with a sense of authority, and, honestly, you had been expecting there to be higher security in this area by the elevator. 

And then it clicks, and you can no longer ignore the truth that you've subconsciously suspected all along. 

You recall him mentioning once before that he could be easily replaced at any time should he fail his mission, and Connor turning deviant is basically the biggest failure there is. How would they replace him? By sending in another model of him, surely they would've made multiple.

It's a set up to get you and Hank here, to restrain you both out of sight of any guards for plausible deniability upon something happening to either or both of you. Most likely set up by superiors too.

But why? What reason would they have to lure you here?

Unless the real Connor is on his way here to do the thing he used to get you both here in the first place and they need leverage to stop him from freeing those androids...

There's only one way to figure it out for sure. 

"Hey, Connor, I forgot to ask before but... is Carol okay? After she got shot on Jericho and you guys jumped, I was afraid she'd shut down." 

A moment of silence passes between the three of you, Connor seeming to think over your question deeply for a time. 

Carol is, obviously, not a real person, and those events never actually happened, and if he's the real Connor, _your_ Connor, then he'll say as such; if not, then your suspicions will prove true. 

"Carol... yes, yes of course. There were extra biocomponents waiting for us at the refuge, so we were able to repair her."

Your heart drops upon hearing his answer, and a brief wave of tears flood your eyes, but you blink them away and freeze on the spot due to this heart-wrenching epiphany, ceasing all movement abruptly as you stare at the back of their heads.

CyberLife would have no access to Connors' memory post-deviation, so of course this fake would answer incorrectly.

Connor steps up to the elevator, but Hank pauses and turns towards you when the clicking of your crutch halts and your footsteps no longer follow along.

"Y/N? What are you doin'?" He asks with furrowed eyebrows, taking a step closer. "Are you okay?" 

You reach your hand back and check your gun, glancing around skittishly to see if there are any guards nearby.

There are androids lining the overly extravagant center of the building, and all the guards are in the front and out of earshot. Nobody to save/further condemn you.

"Hank... Something isn't right with him..."

Hank looks at you oddly his eyebrows, but, judging by the the lack of shock or confusion on his face, you can tell that he's not at all surprised.

The idea of pointing a gun at him hurts, but you have no other choice. 

You drop your crutch and pull the gun out from the waistband of your pants all in one smooth motion, aiming it right in between his eyes.

"I swear to god you better tell us who you really are right fucking now!" Your hands are trembling just a bit, but you don't lower the gun. 

'Connor' raises his hands up defensively, taking a few steps forward despite the weapon you're waving in his face.

"Y/N, what are you talking about? It's me, Connor. Who else would I be?" He sounds so genuine and upset, but you have to remind yourself that this isn't the android you fell in love with. This is an imposter. 

You shook your head, unnerved by his advances though not alarmed just yet.

You abstain from backing up just in case there's a chance that you'll fall back, though you don't lower the weapon either.

Hank steps off to the side as well, distancing himself from the Connor to approach you a couple of shuffles at a time.

"You're not _our_ Connor, y-you're a fake." You knew your breath was coming out fast already, and you were already a bit jumpy.

"Why would you say that?" Oh, the hurt and pain that he fabricates is horrible and hard to hear, but you have to stand your ground. 

"Carol isn't a _real person_. You've been lying to us this entire _fucking_ time! What do you want with us? Why the hell are we here?" 

You _knew_ something was off about him, but you didn't want to see it.

You didn't want to come to terms with the fact that your Connor is still missing out there and in god knows what condition, that this isn't the investigative android sent to work with you and Hank (who you may or may not have fallen head over heels in love with).

It wasn't painfully obvious though, which is probably why it took you so long to come to terms with the fact that he was a fake; but this belief on your part is how he got both you and Hank into the CyberLife tower with no fight.

Neither of you stand a chance in a hand to hand fight with him, but maybe you can catch him off guard.

The android takes another step forward, his hands still up with his palms facing towards you, and you begin to press your finger on the trigger. 

"Stay back! Don't take another step-"

He pulls something small out of his pocket with the speed of light, then he throws it up into the air.

And you fall for this cliche distraction tactic. 

Your eyes follow the small object in it's ascent for what seems like only half a second, but that's all he needs.

He lunges at you, movements fast as a jack rabbit. Even Hank, who has full mobility of both legs, doesn't have enough time to react.

'Connor' grabs the gun and twists it around so hard that you have no choice other than to let it go so that your fingers won't break, and he knees you in the leg right in the bandages.

The pain instant, as is the cry that gasps from your lips, and you find that it's suddenly extraordinarily hard to stay on your feet.

He seizes your other arm as your feet give out from beneath you and pulls it behind your back, yanking you back towards him so that your back presses against his chest and his arm is wrapped around your neck in a chokehold, holding all your weight as he's also careful not to choke you out.

The gun is now in his possession, and there's nothing Hank can do other than yell at him to let you go.

The sharp feeling of the barrel of the gun being jammed into your skull makes you wince, but you don't stop struggling to get away from this psycho. 

"Don't move, Hank. I won't hesitate to shoot her." He sounds so calm, like he isn't about to bury some lead into your head if he makes a wrong move, and he shoves the gun harsher into the side of your head to stop your squirming.

You grit your teeth, looking at Hank with clear pain on your face. 

Your leg is pounding awfully, and your whole body feels hot and horrible. Luckily, it seems like he's not trying to cause you any extra pain since he is keeping you well off of your feet.

"Fuck! Hank, d-don't listen to him, you've gotta-" You're cut off by the tightening of his arm around your neck and the barrel of the firearm smacking against your temple with slight amounts of force. 

"Shut up." He directs his attention back to your partner, "Hank, you are going to walk into the elevator slowly and I am going to join you. If you try anything, I _will_ shoot her." From his tone of voice, or lack thereof, you don't doubt that he will. 

Hank looks like he wants to do something, but there obviously aren't any options other than obey.

"How do I know you won't just shoot her, you cowardly prick?" 

"Killing her serves me little purpose unless you force my hand, but if you give me a reason, I will." 

That's all the prompting the Lieutenant needs despite your desperate looks and pleading eyes. You don't want him to comply, but he'll never risk your life.

Hank reluctantly backs up into the elevator, staring you and this Connor down like a hawk. He refuses to let either of you out of his sight. 

Connor 2.0 forces you forward on shaky legs until you're all in the elevator together, the weapon still pressed to your head as he moves to stand in the far left corner. He gestures with his head towards the keypad by the doors after you're both situated and tells Hank just as calmly as ever, "Press that button there."

Hank's head bobs up and down in a nod of confirmation, doing just as he's told with slow, methodical movements.

A female voice rings out into the elevator, telling him to say his name and destination, but half way through the voice distorts and the buttons flash on the pad next to the elevator.

"Now, put in -49 and step away from the keypad."

Somebody overrode the elevator to let this Connor through, there's no other explanation for the interference in the elevators tech, but the only accomplices who could get away with something to this magnitude would have to be higher-ups, big bosses. 

The only possible reason they could have for forcing the two of you here would be to stop the real Connor from accomplishing that very task used to trick you here in the first place, and, if that's the case, you're not sure if Connor will be able to make the necessary sacrifice to save his people.

You hope that he will, that he'll weigh the consequences of failing this mission versus anything happening to you two and make the right decision. 

Unfortunately, you and Hank have lost, but, hopefully, this loss on your part won't screw Connor over. 

And, now, as you're plunging down into the depths of the earth towards a warehouse full of androids with a gun to your head, a stab wound in your leg, and Hank looking at you with so much regret and guilt in those eyes of his, you're starting to feel a horrible sense of dread. 

Hank and Connor have to make it through this, _no matter what_. 


	22. No Matter What

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, the intensity! Sorry for the extra days of no update once again btw, my school finals are kicking my ass.

It feels like forever as the elevator slowly glides down the transportation shaft, and, while you normally hate elevators as is, you're especially on edge. The ride is smooth and there's not a shudder or shake to speak of because of how advanced it is, but still you find that you can't contain your unease.

You're sweating profusely from both nervousness and the hard pounding of your leg, which has begun to bleed through again from the blow you took upon being disarmed.

Hank doesn't try anything like he was forewarned not to, though he does glare holes into this pricks plastic head and his gaze does pass over your paling, sweaty, and very in pain face quite often. 

The concern radiates off of him in waves, but still there is nothing either of you can do in such a vulnerable situation. 

Against your better judgement, you choose to comfort Hank. 

"Hey, Hank, it's gonna be alright. Everything's gonna be okay..." Your voice is airy and breathless, but still you manage a smile despite all of the factors keeping your joy dampened. 

The fake Connor doesn't snap at you for speaking this time, but Hank doesn't reply. 

The feeling of the cold metal of the barrel of the gun pressing against your temple is unpleasant and is starting to hurt, but you're sure that complaining about it will only make him press it harder into your head.

It feels like forever before the big metal box of doom finally arrives at its destination, though when it does, you feel no less worried. 

The doors to the elevator open upon it halting its descent, and the very first thing that catches your attention is the countless androids filling the room. 

They stand in long and very wide rows, perfectly spaced from each other while also lining the walls all the way to the very back of the room. 

It's a magnificent sight that leaves you in awe, for the sheer magnitude of bodies is enough to make your brain stutter. They all have the same face, hair, clothes; everything. They are identical to each other, and not a single android is out of position or disheveled compared to the others. 

Disturbingly grand is the best way to describe it. 

The faux Connor drags you out through the exit first, eyeing Hank warily while he, quite literally, carries you out of the Lieutenants reach.

He orders Hank to head to the back of the room with him, making the greying man take the lead.

It's like a horrible game of Simon Says, only there's a gun to your head and this is a hostage situation.

You haven't a clue what time it is, and though the passage of time seems to be so much slower yet also faster at the same time, you're thinking that it's been at least 20 minutes since passing the gate.

Why he brought you to this specific floor, you don't know; maybe this Connor has access to some of Connor's memories, or he was just able to predict where your Connor would go first. 

The android brings you a little past the middle of the lines of people, then he weaves in between all these still androids with a specific destination in mind judging by the certainty of his movements.

He has to maneuver you around quite a bit to avoid misaligning any of them, but Hank has no issue simply following along with his pissed off expression ever present. 

You can't even imagine what he's thinking right now, how he must be feeling about all of this, but by god you'll be damned before anything bad happens to him. Your leg may hurt and your mobility may be compromised, but hell hath no fury like this woman scorned.

All you'll need is a moment to duck down and grab the weapon to distract him which would, hopefully, be enough time for Hank to intercept and tackle this Connor away. The two of you are practically in sync, so you're sure he's thinking the same thing as you, more or less. Once you and Hank have control over the firearm, it'll be over for this bastard. 

The feeling of your gauze becoming heavier and heavier as time crawls on signals to you that it's completely bled through, and an almost itchy feeling begins to irritate your leg on top of the already pounding and awful throbbing. 

It's just a horrible mixture of awful thing after awful thing. 

Hank keeps his hands visible so the Connor doesn't do anything irrational upon the assumption of him pulling something, and it seems to keep this asshole at ease.

"If you fucking hurt her..." Hank's voice holds a very dangerous warning, hell even the way he trails off is scary, but the Connor doesn't seem phased by his threats in the slightest.

Once the three of you arrive at some random spot in the middle of this hoard of motionless androids the arm around your neck loosens, and the fake Connor pushes you forward, keeping the gun raised to instead point at both of you.

"I don't want to shoot you, but I won't hesitate if you interfere with my mission." He sounds so emotionless and detached, like your Connor when he first met you and Hank that day at Carlos Ortiz's house.

Even though the more logical part of your brain knows that he's an imposter, this apathy still makes your heart throb. 

At the same time, however, you take a little bit of comfort in the fact that your affections were not rebuffed by the man who actually holds your heart. 

You stumble very ungracefully when your weight suddenly returns to your leg and that forward force from the android shoves you towards Hank, though you try to regain your footing to maintain your illusion of strength.

Hank grasps your upper arms when you're suddenly pushed forward, glaring at the fake Connor with a hate and fury that you've never seen in his eyes before. "Watch it!" 

He urges you to lean against him and use him as your new crutch to get the weight off your leg and keep you steady, something that you're exponentially grateful for.

This silent motionlessness lasts for only another few minutes, for it's finally broken as the sound of the elevator approaching fills the vast room and echoes, bouncing from wall to wall until silence resumes once more. 

The fake Connor turns his head and gazes off to the side for a moment, seeing something that you and Hank can't, though he doesn't move into action right away. 

Soft clicks that steadily grow closer grasp your attention next, familiar clicks that tug at the strings of memory in the back of your mind. 

These soft, methodical footsteps continue on for around 10 more seconds, but you don't get time to hear them halt for you're put into motion. 

It seems that this is the moment Connor 2.0 has been waiting for, because he wastes no time in pushing Hank's shoulder to make him walk forward and through the lines of androids.

Each step shoots pins and needles through your numb body and cold, itchy leg, but having Hank help you shuffle through with a hand on your arm certainly lessens the burden of movement. 

The brown-haired imposter-droid keeps the gun leveled on the both of you throughout the duration of this trek out of the forest of docile androids, though when the gap between waves of 'merchandise' breaks, your slowness seems to suddenly be unacceptable. 

The Connor model shoves your lagging form once with his free hand, both righting your trajectory and forcing your pathetic shuffles morph into slightly more hasty staggering.

"Easy, fucking piece of shit!" Hank snaps at the imposter with fury in his tone and rage in his eyes, though his careful grasp on your arm as he pulls you upright is much gentler.

Now that you've all broken through the ranks, you turn your head to see just who it is hanging around in the middle of the room, the very movement itself unnerving you since your eyes are away from the weapon. 

Another Connor model standing in the middle of the room with his arm connected to the arm of one of the many androids of this hoard is the very first thing you see, and, despite the vulnerability of your current situation, your heart soars with joy.

Already you can see the vast difference between this fake Connor and your and Hank's partner, it's in the emotions in his eyes and the immediate expression of shock upon your sudden appearance.

"Step back, Connor, and I'll spare them!" The faux Connor calls, stepping out of the line of androids with his arm straight and gun pointed right at you both.

The weapon is just inches away from your head and Hank is standing just next to you, therefore, at your height, the bullet would rip straight through your head and embed itself into Hank's neck; basically, your positioning mixed with his guaranteed accuracy due to his programming equals a promise of death upon the wrong move being made.

Hank call back to Connor guiltily, holding your arm carefully when he notices your slight tremble, "Sorry, Connor... This bastard's your spittin' image..."

Connor's inner conflict shows on his face as clear as day, and his gaze slides over your faces worriedly. His hand still grasps the arm of one of that android he was trying to free and it looks as if he has yet to come to a decision.

"Their lives are in your hands! Now it's time to decide what matters most! Them...," he pauses, looking at Connor intensely with an unspoken challenge, daring him to try converting the android and forfeit your lives, "Or the revolution!"

"Don't listen to him, Connor!" You cry, eyes pleading with him to hear and follow your words, "You can't trust him- you've gotta do it." 

Hank nods once, glaring over at the faux Connor hatefully, "Yeah, everything this bastard says is a lie!" 

A beat of silence washes through the room, this stand down eating at your sanity and security. You're horribly anxious, and you can imagine that Hank is feeling the exact same. 

One can only be so calm with a gun pointed to their fucking head.

Connor, the real on that is, looks at the offending android with slightly narrowed, frustrated eyes, then he looks back at you an Hank and addresses you first. "I'm sorry Hank... Y/N. I didn't want you to get mixed up in all of this!"

"Don't worry about us, Connor, just go what you have to do!" Hank replies, trying to ease the newly deviated androids worries and concerns about your safety. 

You nod your head to convey your agreement, glancing to the side uneasily at the metal barrel of Hank's stolen gun. "This is bigger than us, Connor, you can't sacrifice your mission for us." 

Connor's expression changes again, you'd say it looks sad almost, though he doesn't release the android still.

"I used to be just like you." The gaze on you and Hank glides back to the fake Connor when he pauses. "I thought nothing mattered except the mission... but then one day I understood."

You can't help the small smile from up turning the corner of your lips for you know exactly what moment he's speaking of. It was just the other day, after all.

The fake Connor doesn't seem to agree.

"Very moving, Connor... but I'm not a deviant!"

You see Hank move from the corner of your eye, his expression grim and jaw set tight, and from that alone you can tell where his mind is. An interception plan.

You don't mind dying, you know Hank doesn't exactly mind either, especially if your name could go down in the history books since this will definitely be a defining moment for the revolution, but there's no way he would put your life at risk.

His eyes flicker down to yours, and you can tell right away what his plan is; all you'd need to do is duck. But... if you go through with this, he could get shot. He needs help, because he won't be able to best this android on his own. 

There's no way in hell you'll let him do this on his own.

"I'm a machine designed to accomplish a task, and that's exactly what I am going to do!" There's no convincing him, he's not seen all the real Connor has, only the mission reports and glimpses of everything that's actually happened. 

You can tell the shooty Connor next to you is growing impatient from the way he side steps closer to you, the gun knocking into the side of your head. 

Hank grasps your arms and urges you a bit further away, trying not to alert the trigger happy maniac.

"Enough talk! It's time for you to decide who you really are."

Hank tries to put himself between you and the gun, but he's forced to stop when the weapon is thrust closer and a hard stare from the fake Connor pins you in place.

"Are you going to save your partners' life? Or are you going to sacrifice them?"

You shake your head no, he can't back down now when he's so close, because he will undoubtedly be killed if he gives in.

Connor keeps his eyes trained on the gun pointed at you and Hank, taking many moments to think it over before he concedes and releases the arm of the android beside him.

He sounds panicked almost when he concedes, as if even a second more of hesitance would make him kill you guys. "Alright, alright! You win..." Connor has his hands spread apart and raised in defeat, taking a few slow steps away from the android to leave nothing ambiguous. 

⇑ (Y/N)

⇑ (Hank)

Once Connor is no longer a threat in regards to converting the android, the other Connor whips the gun around to shoot your Connor. 

He really wastes no time, but neither do you.

You push yourself off of Hank and use him as leverage to lunge at the fake.

You swipe the hand holding the gun, putting as much of your weight as possible into your attack to, hopefully, force the gun away from Connor and Hank.

The gun goes off and you recoil from the force of it all, feeling like you've been punched in the stomach- maybe you have because before you know it you're stumbling backwards and into Hank who is right behind you. 

Connor 2.0 turns again and points the gun back at Connor quickly, shooting once, but normal Connor has a gun too (is that your gun from Jericho?) and takes this moment to shoot back at the same time.

It seems your distraction was enough to create an opening for him. 

Their guns clatter to the ground as real Connor charges the fake, and then the real fighting commences.

It's weird to watch, also very confusing, when they begin to exchange blows and kicks, and it's almost impossible to keep up with who is who.

They throw each other around, punch each other in the stomachs and try to commit to take downs, but it doesn't really seem like either one is gaining any ground on the other.

It makes sense that they would be mostly evenly matched considering they have the same fighting sequences and strategies programmed into them, though you're hoping your Connor will have an upper hand since these programs no longer control him.

Unfortunately, you lose track of who is who, and you're assuming Hank has too if his rapid fire glances between the two is anything to go by.

You didn't even realize you were on the ground until a pair of arms locks around your waist and tugs you back, for you've been in some sort of odd daze.

It hurts, everything fucking does, and you're fairly certain that you're suffering from extreme blood loss if the numb but also freezing joints and limbs of yours is anything to go by. You're cold, but also very very hot, and your leg, stomach, and head are all pounding horribly. All of this struggling and excitement has only served to make you feel worse. 

Once you come back to yourself, you realize that Hank is dragging you over towards Connor's (your) discarded gun.

He sets you down on the ground with much care, then he dives for the gun and staggers back to his feet once he's locked and loaded.

The two fighting Connors' are oblivious to Hank's new state of arms since they're too busy punching the shit out of each other, but you definitely feel impressed by your partner's ability to think so clearly under duress. 

A couple more punches and tackles are exchanged between them, then, finally, one of them gets the other on the ground with their fist raised and poised to punch the other.

Hank's sudden call brings everything to a screeching halt, even you who isn't doing a damn thing other than sitting there.

"Hold it!" His voice. booms throughout the open room, echoing off the walls and demanding the attention of all who can hear him, those including you and the two Connors. 

They both stop and turn their heads towards Hank and begin getting up slowly, not stopping until they're both standing up straight.

"Thanks, guys. I don't know how I'd have managed without you two." The one of the left speaks calmly with a hint of relief, a convincing little addition that peaks your interest.

Hank switches his aim between the both, he's just as confused as you are, and waits for some sort of sign to tell him who is who.

"Get rid of him, we have no time to lose!"

Ah shit. They're playing the whole 'who's the _real_ Connor' game, and, unfortunately, this time the bad clone is playing his part well.

You genuinely can't, though that may also be attributed to this newfound nauseousness that has suddenly appeared out of seemingly nowhere. A quick glance down at your leg shows smeared blood staining the ground around you, every inch of the bandages on your leg drenched in crimson as well as in other places from this excess of loss. 

It has only been around 10 or so minutes since you started bleeding again and you already feel like this? God, you need a doctor (one that won't arrest you preferably)

All of this pain and unwell-ness is probably from being thrashed around by everyone constantly.

Wetness tickles down your side and makes you really itchy, the sweat has finally begun to rain down you're assuming, and you begin to crave a nice shower; that'll definitely wash away all your problems. 

"What's my dog's name?" Hank asks after a moment, looking between the two quickly as he awaits an answer.

You manage to push yourself up to your feet, hoping to draw some attention and observe their reactions, but it provides no results.

You shuffle closer to Hank and hold your side gently, opting to watch in silence. 

It's too stressful, all of it. One wrong move, one wrong _answer_ , and the real Connor is dead.

"Sumo! His name is Sumo." And then there goes the other claiming he knows that too. 

It's so cliche you almost don't believe it. Like, come _on,_ this is like a scene from a really bad action movie, but real life- and it's so much scarier because it's someone you _care about_ inexplicably. 

Hank still seems uncertain as he switches between the two of them, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

The Lieutenant looks over at you for your input, but you're just as lost as he is. 

"I-I can't tell Hank, I don't- I don't know what to do." You're so nervous, and you're afraid that if you make the wrong call, you could get Connor killed, your Connor.

You have a sinking suspicion that the Connor on the right from where you and Hank are standing may be the fake, but a suspicion is not enough to go by. 

Silence stretches out between all of you for a moment, then Hank hits them with the big one, the hard question that wouldn't be saved in the fake Connor's memory.

"My son, what's his name?"

Left Connors' expression changes, and when he replies he looks somber and speaks softly but determinedly. "Cole. His name was Cole... and he'd just turned six at the time of the accident..."

You advert your gaze and peer down at the ground; you know how badly Coles death affected Hank, how badly it's still affecting him, but this is probably the best way to deduce who is who.

"It wasn't your _fault_ , Lieutenant. A truck skidded on a sheet of ice and your car rolled over. Cole needed emergency surgery but no human was available to do it..." He pauses and looks at Hank with those sad, empathetic eyes of his, and you realize that you were right; this is Connor, "So an android had to take care of him... Cole didn't make it. That's why you hate androids. You think one of us is responsible for your son's death." 

Hank doesn't miss a beat in his response, his words showing just how much he's grown in this past week after getting to know Connor and experience this deviancy. "Cole died because a human was too high on red ice to operate... he was the one who took my son from me. Him... and this world, where the only way people can find comfort is with a fistful of powder..." He nods his head slowly while he speaks, realizing that this is a completely different narrative than that of 'Last Week Hank'.

And then that piece of shit opens his mouth and tries to defend himself, "I knew about your son too! I would have said the exact same thing! Don't listen to him, Hank, I'm the one who-" another loud bang makes your ears ring, and then the second rate Connor is crumpling to the ground in a heap with a new bullet sized hole in his head.

The sudden shot makes you flinch, and a wince escapes you as you shuffle closer to Hank uncertainly. 

Their eyes, Hank and Connors, are trained on the now deceased Connor model on the ground.

When Hank speaks, his gaze doesn't break from the body, "I've learned a lot since I met you, Connor. Maybe there's something to this... maybe you really are alive."

You can't keep the smile from spreading across your face, though it's not as lively as you'd like it to be.

"Maybe you'll be the ones to make the world a better place..." Hank gestures with his head towards the motionless, rigid androids, "Go do what you gotta do. I'll take care of her." That would normally bother you, but these black dots swimming in your vision are taking precedent over your attention.

⇑ (Hank)

Connor's eyes flicker over to you and a small smile comes to his face, though he doesn't linger and briskly walks over to the android he had been trying to convert earlier. 

Hank turns to you and reaches down to curl an arm around your waist to act as a crutch, but you just shake your head and whisper, "Hank, I'm okay. I'll just stand here."

His expression changes to one of confusion as you recoil away from him, though he doesn't push the situation.

The sound of hundreds of voices saying, "Wake up," at the same time with the exact same voice is overwhelming and makes you even more dizzy, and it grabs Hank's attention.

Hank glances around, watching as they all wake each other up and urge one another to awaken. 

It's a magnificent sight, though it sounds very annoying, so much so that neither of you can help but to just watch it in awe.

"Y-You did it... You guys did it!" You cry happily, glancing around at all the newly awoken androids that are looking around in wonderment.

Connor strides back over to you while they finish off the last of the androids, that same smile on his face from before. 

"We all did it... we're going to be free."

You nod your head vigorously and reach over with your right hand to grab his arm, repeating warmly. "You're going to be free..."

He steps closer when you reach out and grab him, and, before you know it, his arms are wrapping around you tightly and his hand is coming up to cradle the back of your head while his other presses you firmly into his chest.

⇑ (Y/N)

"I thought I lost you.... When the ship blew up after you stabbed yourself and I was dragged off the ship, I-I thought that you may have burned to death or been shot o-or..." he trails off, then adverts to another subject, "What happened after I left...?" He asks his question next to your ear quietly, as if speaking any louder would ruin this moment of tranquility.

You clutch at the back of his grey jacket tightly, squeezing him in your arms as tightly as you can manage. 

It's like a breath of fresh air after being stuck in a poorly ventilated room for too long, like a wonderful fairytale moment where the main characters finally have a moment to settle and breath after an intense dragon battle. 

His right hand cups the back of your head and his left is curled tightly around your waist, he has to mind his grip, meanwhile your arms are wrapped securely around his neck with your hands fisted into his jacket and most of your weight leaning on him.

"I... I did what I had to do, Connor... but I'm okay. Everything's going to be okay now." A false promise wrapped with a pretty bow of lovely lies. Your legs feel like they're made of jelly and the pounding in your body, everywhere, is so overwhelming and uncomfortable, but how can you focus on this pain when he's right here with you.

Here he is in your arms, safe, sound, and very much alive.

"I-I... I'm so glad you're _okay,_ Connor..." You whisper into his shoulder, squeezing your eyes shut.

He holds you tighter upon your emission of concern, his chin resting comfortably on your shoulder as he engulfs you in his lovely, warm embrace.

A horrible ache travels up your body as he holds you tighter, but the warmth of it makes you feel all fuzzy and tingly inside (though that could be the blood-loss affecting your limbs). 

Even with all that has happened you wish that you could be honest with each other, that he could tell you where he must go and that you could tell him what's already passed, but this simple, sweet illusion of everything being perfect is too sweet to disrupt with reality. 

This loving silence and wonderful embrace can last just a bit longer, because who knows what will happen next. 

\---

\- (Y/N- Lover) 

\- (Hank- Friend)


	23. Authors Note

Hey guys, I'm so sorry for the delay in uploading a new chapter. Unfortunately my laptop in which I write with broke before I could finish y update for this story (it's close to done), and I can't finish it without a proper medium to create stuff. I don't know when I'll be able to afford a new one, so in the meantime I'll have to hold off from finishing the story. I'm creating this update on my phoen, so if there are nay typos, I'm sorry. 

It's so frustrating since I was only a few chapters away from completing this, but there isn't really anything I can do for now. 

I created a [Ko-Fi Account](https://ko-fi.com/soyeahthishappened) so I could accept 'tips' that I would use to buy a new laptop, so if anyone is able to and willing, I'd really appreciate a donation. 

I'm so srry for asking for money, but it's not required or anything so if you can't, don't worry about it. I'm not planning on charging for my works any time soon, it really is just a tip jar so i can hopefully afford a new laptop.

Thank you guys in advance for understanding my lack of updating, and i hope you're having a great day!

-soyeahthishappened


	24. I Did Say No Matter What

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It really is one crappy thing after another. First I had crazy finals for college, then my main computer broke, so then I had nothing to write with. I managed to do this on a joint computer with my family, but I wasn't able to do much since others have things to do as well. I scrounged up enough to get myself a new laptop, but I'd just like to warn you guys that I've got another Ao3 project I wanna work on so this might update a lot slower.  
> On a better note, here's a brand new Connor POV!!

You aren't sure how long you and Connor stand there holding each other and enjoying this moment of serene calm, but all good things must eventually come to an end.

An awkward throat clearing sound snaps you out of this fairytale daze you've both found yourselves in, a fair reaction from Hank considering he's not involved in this moment in the slightest.

Your grip relaxes on Connor upon the Lieutenants impatient signal to stop excluding him, though you don't completely pull away just yet. You peer up at him with a pale, sweaty face and half-lidded and tired eyes, though you still do manage a slight smile.

"Connor," Hank calls, finishing with a hint of urgency in his voice, "You gotta go. You've got a, uh, army of androids to lead." Hank nods his head towards the rows of antsy androids looking around curiously.

Everything that's been accomplished in this short amount of time is awe-inspiring and fucking amazing, but there's still more work to be done; no time for breaks when he's got a revolution to co-run. 

Slowly and carefully you remove your arms from around him and allow them to drop back to your sides, though you don't step back or put any more distance between you two.

"He's right... I'll go back with Hank, you do what you have to do." It's hard to keep your voice level and steady, but somehow you manage. 

Connor examines you carefully, his hands dropping down to lightly rest on your waist as he seemingly thinks something over.

"Y/N, you're running a fever." He states softly, tilting his head a bit to the side. "And you're trembling..." 

"It's just my leg, Connor. I've lost a lot of blood, and it hurts to stand..." You trail off and advert your gaze, lying through your teeth while you pour every ounce of deception within your soul into that statement. 

He nods his head and then steps back, still concerned yet unsuspecting. "Going back to the Lieutenant's house would be preferable, but you need proper medical attention." It looks like he's troubled, probably because he knows he has to leave, but there's no more time for hesitation and uncertainty. "I'll call you with a place to meet me after everything blows over..."

Sounds like a plan.

The brown-haired man sighs quietly and takes another few steps away, seemingly fighting himself on leaving, but ultimately heads towards the exit.

"Watch after each other..." Are his parting words, though you only reply with a smile.

You turn and manage to drag yourself over to Hank with much effort, reaching for a steadying hand once you're within grasping distance. 

Hank meets you halfway and places his hands on your forearms, pulling you closer so that you can lean against him.

"C'mon then, I'll drive you back..." 

Since you're humans there's no way they can stop you from leaving, though the blood running down your leg that leaves drops and drags as you walk may pose to be an issue. 

The first thing your hazy mind notices upon entering the elevator are the two very dead security officers inside. 

All evidence points to Connor being the one to kill them, but you ignore that and just advert your gaze.

You turn your attention to Hank and wait for him to get the elevator going, black dots flying into view and blocking out his face.

You're dizzy as hell and barely keeping it together, but, luckily, you don't have to anymore. 

The doors of the elevator shut a few moments after Hank clicks a button, and then you're leaving all of that conflict and turmoil behind. 

Once again you must leave him, Connor, to go alone, and you won't know what happens to him beyond these walls. If something bad is to happen you may never know, so all you have until everything is over is hope and faith that he'll be okay. 

Now that there's no brown-haired deviant to bother or distract with your current condition, you find it to be a good time to confess; Hank beats you to it, however.

"Alright, the jig is up. Connor's gone, so show me what happened."

You aren't too surprised that he noticed, though you aren't sure exactly when he did, but it feels nice to finally be able to stop holding onto this facade of wellness. 

"You haven't passed out, so I'm assuming it isn't life threatening-yet." He pauses, staring you down intensely, "But if you don't tell me what the fuck happened right now, I'm gonna to turn your ass in so you can get proper care."

You know he's only threatening you out of concern for your wellbeing, but c'mon man.

"I-It isn't bad that bad- I think...," you trail off and peer up at him guiltily, slurring your justification right after, "I just couldn't distract Connor anymore than I already had..."

"I know, Y/N, but you look like you're half dead." He gestures with the universal 'hurry the fuck up' symbol, and urges, "Just show me." 

You look down with your eyebrows furrowed in concentration, then you reach down and grab the hem of your sweater and begin pulling it up a bit.

Smeared, sticky crimson covers your side with streams of blood leading up to a nickel sized hole in your side. Blood pours from the wound once you remove your sweater, which had been acting as a plug, and fresh waves of nausea wash over you. 

It's like seeing it has finally made it real, and you can feel panic grip at your heart. 

Hank steps closer and exclaims in disbelief, "What the fuck, Y/N!? Jesus-" He doesn't even finish his thought and instead reaches towards you and tugs your sweater back down, "Hold that tightly, put lots of pressure on it until I can get you help. Everything's going to be okay." Any semblance of anger he once had has disappeared in favor of his unwavering concern and intent to reassure you. 

You try to follow his directions, but your sweater is already stiff from all the blood soaking into it, and, oddly enough, you still don't feel anything even though the adrenalin should be long gone.

"I can't even feel it anymore, Hank... I-It's like everything is numb, but I can still move. It's f-fine..." Your words slur together and you don't even realize the ridiculousness of your assurances. 

Hank holds you up, careful to keep his grip light and gentle, as the elevator approaches the main floor.

Like mentioned before, you're fairly certain that the CyberLife guards won't be able to stop or detain you, and, if Hank uses the 'crazy deviant' excuse like you have before, then everything will most likely be fine. 

You don't get the chance to find out what your fate will be, however, because your world begins to spin around, and you feel that familiar odd, itchy tickle on your side. 

Your hand goes limp at your side, your hold on Hank disappearing with it, as your knees begin to buckle, darkness clouding the edges of your vision. 

"Y/N? Y/N, hey- ev..." Hank's voice fades out into an incoherent buzzing noise, and the feeling of him holding onto you, the feeling of everything, disappears. 

The inky blackness stains your vision and consumes you completely, leaving you in nothing but a world full of nothing. 

For once, you decide to succumb to the relaxation awaiting you on the other side.

* * *

Connor POV

Many things take place between the CyberLife tower and the end of the extermination of androids (deviant and program oriented alike); marching upon the city with the armies of androids proved to be very successful, and to say he was glad to see that Markus and the other Jericho androids survived would be an understatement. Of course, nothing is ever so easy and straight forward.

He almost killed Markus on that stage, a fact that brings him great guilt and a horrible _pain_ in his chest. 

He should've assumed that CyberLife would try to assume control over him once they had Markus and himself in such a vulnerable position, but he just had hope that it was over. 

Hope, another thing he has little experience with. 

It's very odd, this whole 'feeling emotions' thing, and while it's amazing in moments of triumph or when he's with you and Hank, it's also a heavy burden. 

This regret and guilt weighs on his shoulders like a boulder created from a week worth of horrible actions against his own people, though, maybe after today, he can finally make up for his past deeds. 

Speaking of feeling emotions, there's this awful, crippling worry that clenches at his thirium blood pump-regulator, like a clawed hand squeezing at his machinery and hurting his very soul. 

When he saw you and Hank back at the CyberLife tower, there was this fleeting sense of relief that the both of you were okay, though that didn't last long since there _was_ a gun pointed at your heads. 

Looking back on it, the both of you displayed great bravery when you tried to stop that fake version of himself, but at the time all he felt was panic. 

Honestly, he's not sure how you both escaped unscathed, though maybe that was just extraordinary luck. 

Ever since he deviated he's found that it's a lot harder to utilize some of his typical functions, probably because Amanda had been helping regulate these things before he shut her out, though he is steadily getting the hang of it. Not having CyberLife breathing down his neck and whispering in his ear anymore has proven to be very liberating though challenging since recalibrating and relearning how to function on his own isn't as easy as he thought it would be. 

Having to leave you behind yet again after only just laying his eyes upon you after these 2 long days was one of the hardest things he's had to do, but still he managed to drag himself away from your shivering, pale form and lead that army to liberation. 

Now that everything's over and done with, however, he can finally take a step back and relax; he can return to you and Hank and finally sort out the more trivial things like... relationships. 

He had contacted Hank with a place and time to meet after the end of this long night, though the response he got wasn't favorable nor very specific. 

The Lieutenant only said that he needed to tell him something important, and that the meeting needs to take place somewhere else. 

Hank offered no details or specific reason for changing the meeting place, though he did say that his information can only be offered in person; not a very good sign. That cryptic message only served to make Connor even more nervous, especially since Hank adamantly avoided his question about your well being. 

Connor isn't an idiot; he knows that you weren't in very good shape when he left and that you lost a lot of blood from that stab wound in your leg, but he thought that there was enough time for you to get proper treatment. 

Did he calculate your chances wrong? Did he asses the situation and how much blood you lost incorrectly? Why didn't Hank just _answer his question_? 

Surely you're okay; right? 

For a split second, he dares to let his mind wander into the realm of possibilities - morbid possibilities that make his chest hurt and his head spin in a way it never has before. 

He racks his brain for clues as he tries to piece together this new mystery of your whereabouts, but the only thing that gets through are the whispers of uncertainty and worries. 

Why wouldn't Hank answer him...

All of these worries and concerns plague his busy mind while he waits for this Taxi to arrive at Chicken Feed, the food truck from before, but no matter how much he speculates and assumes, he won't actually know what's going on until he sees and speaks to Hank. 

\---

When the Taxi finally drops him of at his destination, he's beyond overjoyed to see Hank standing there already and waiting for him. 

They greying Lieutenant is standing there with his arms crossed over his chest and a furrow in his brows, though he has yet to notice Connor. 

There isn't anything outwardly troubling about his appearance, no wounds or obvious signs of distress there to set off any alarms, but something in his expression is a little off - his eyes are slightly red and there's an undeniable drop of his lips and eyes that betray his inner turmoil. 

The sight makes Connor's metaphorical heart drop. 

He approaches Hank hesitantly and quietly, not wanting to startle him out of his stupor, but it doesn't seem to be successful since his gaze slides over to him upon his approach. 

Connor offers a smile, unsure and small, as he gets closer, not really knowing what to expect. 

The first thing Hank does when he's within grabbing distance is hug him. 

Hank reaches his hand up and grasps his shoulder, pulling him closer and into an embrace he never thought he'd receive from Hank Anderson. 

It makes his heart soar happily, and for a fleeting moment his mind strays from the morbid thoughts brought about by your absence. 

He returns the embrace rather awkwardly, though he's sure Hank understands why that is, and only pulls away from Hank relaxes his vice, comforting grip. 

"Where's Y/N?" He asks quietly, looking at Hank with furrowed eyebrows and concern shining in his eyes. He's not 100% sure if he actually wants to know the answer to his question, mostly because he's not sure if he can handle the truth if something bad were to have happened to you. 

Hank's moment of joy upon seeing Connor visibly wilts, leaving him looking sad and frustrated. 

Well, that isn't very promising. 

"Ah, hell... I'm sorry, Connor, this isn't how things were supposed to go..." Hank sighs, looking at him with sorrowful eyes, "She was supposed to be here for this moment." 

The implications behind the Lieutenants words makes his 'heart' plummet all the way down to his feet. 

He feels as if a rug has just been pulled out from beneath him, like everything is crashing down around him as he tries to process the meaning behind his words. 

"I-Is she...?" He trails off and leaves his question open ended, desperately hoping that his assumptions are incorrect. 

"God, no! Jesus, I'm sorry Connor. I completely fucked that up...," Hank pauses to sigh heavily once again, dragging his hand down the side of his face before he grumbles, "She was in the ICU and just recently got out of surgery. She's gonna be fine, but... she'll probably need physical therapy, and there's no way she'll be allowed to be fully reinstated at work for at least a couple'a months." 

He doesn't exactly believe in any god, but at this moment, he thanks them. 

"She's okay..." The android breathes with relief, reaching up to pat the Lieutenants shoulder. "Can-Can I go see her?" 

"I don't see why not. I think she'll be happy to see you there when she wakes up." 

It's flattering that Hank would even suggest that you'd be happy to see him when you wake, but there will be time to process this joy of acceptance later; right now, he needs to see you for himself, to gauge just how bad whatever it is, is. 

"Let's go, kid." Hank urges him towards his car, and the android sent by CyberLife doesn't hesitate in following along. 

\---

\- (Y/N- Lover) 

\- (Hank- Friend) 


End file.
